


We Don’t Talk Anymore (But We Could)

by SinisterSound



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Break Up, Fix Its, Geonhak is defensive, Getting back together!AU, Love Languages, M/M, Memories, Miscommunications out the wazoo, Rating is purely for swearing, Seoho lashes out, The snow makes Geonhak sad, They’re both a little dumb, being sad, but what else is new, couple fights, first snow, i really hope it’s not confusing, miscommunications, nonlinear timeline, they swear a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:02:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 37,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27122897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinisterSound/pseuds/SinisterSound
Summary: On the first snow last year, Seoho walked away with anger in his eyes and accusing riddles on his tongue.Geonhak never prepared for the eventuality of seeing him again, or getting answers for why he left.Geonhak hates and loves the snow.
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/Lee Seoho
Comments: 26
Kudos: 146





	1. Where Did It (I) Go Wrong?

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the wait, lovelies!! Work has been hitting too hard, and I’m struggling to find any time for anything lol~   
> This is a fic I’ve been waiting to write for a while, and I really hope you enjoy it!!   
> Please let me know what you think, lovelies! Thank you for your patience! 
> 
> -SS

It was on Geonhak’s way home from work when the first snowflake of the season fell.

He paused on the sidewalk, the hour late enough that no one was around to glare at him for holding up their way as he froze like a physical wall had been placed in his way.

He felt the first snowflake land on his cheek, stark and cold despite the numbness that had already set in on his short time out of the warmth of the education center.

He swallowed slowly as he lifted his eyes towards the sky.

It was grey, overlaid with clouds in the icy chill of the evening. The longer he looked, the more tiny flakes he saw fluttering down around him on the quiet street.

More fell, landing on his cheeks and nose, one threatening to poke his eye, but he still didn’t move, not even to adjust the flap of his coat that had slipped open.

Lowering his eyes, he was almost surprised to find himself alone, despite never having traveled with someone to begin with.

Geonhak always hated the snow.

It was cold, slick, it stuck to everything, it gathered in the soles of his boots and was impossible to get rid of without making a huge mess of melted ice and water. It made it impossible to travel comfortably, and it made his electric bill go up for the second half of the year.

For a short time, it had been his favorite time of year.

Even now, the snow looked beautiful, falling and glinting in the lights of the city road that wasn’t as bustling as some of the major streets. Here and now, he couldn’t find a fault with the ice falling from the sky.

He was already doing better than last year.

On last year’s first snowfall… Geonhak had stood still as Seoho walked away, bitterness on his tongue and a confused, unanswered pain in his chest.

_“What did I do?”_ he had asked. He wasn’t ashamed to say it had sounded like a beg.

But Seoho had merely stared at him, as cold as the snow that had begun to fall only seconds earlier.

_“You honestly don’t know?”_ he demanded, sounding as if the answer was so obvious, Geonhak would have to be idiotic not to understand.

Geonhak had felt like someone had just handed him a test he hadn’t even known he needed to study for. He stared at a blank page with a single question… and he had no idea how to begin to answer.

That was the part that made it most confusing: Geonhak genuinely didn’t know where things had gone wrong. He had thought they were doing well.

And then without warning… Seoho was walking away with a pained, weak scoff that tried to come off as indifferent, but that was the most damning evidence that there was something cracking inside him.

Geonhak tried to grab his hand as he walked, tried to make him stay for just one more minute, floundering in the cold air and the harsh pounding of his heart-

_“Wait- I really don’t know what I did,”_ he pushed, Seoho pausing without looking back at him. _“I… I thought things were okay, but we can talk-“_

The next words… never left Geonhak’s head, even a year later.

_“Oh,_ now _you want to talk?”_ It was sharp and harsh and hurt. And it confused Geonhak to death. It stunned him hard enough for Seoho to tear his hand away and storm off, leaving him helpless to think about following as his mind frantically tried to piece together his meaning.

Geonhak had always been a bit… scared of relationships.

He’d never had any in high school, and even in university, he had carefully danced away from any person who expressed even the slightest interest in him- male and female alike, choosing instead to focus on his studies.

It had put him on the receiving end of endless teasing from his friends who tried to set him up, but Geonhak dug his heals in like a stubborn stallion, yanking at any lead they tried to use to guide him towards someone they knew who was interested.

_“You’re going to die old and alone,”_ Youngjo would warn him, a pitying shake of his head as Geonhak threw away yet another number written on a post it note stuck to his bag.

_“It’s not as if the entire campus doesn’t know I’m not interested,”_ he would huff. _“And it’s not as if I’m doing it to be cruel. I’m too busy for that stuff.”_ He lifted a knowing eyebrow. _“Unlike some people who miss quizzes because they were busy getting lunch dates.”_

_“That was one time-“_

_“One time is enough.”_

It wasn’t as if his friends were all dating, in fact none of them had really ever dated anyone seriously, either. But they at least would talk to the person and see if there was some compatibility there.

Geonhak didn’t have time for that. He didn’t want to _make_ time for that.

It was a full time job to attend his classes, go to his internship, and find time at the end of it all to meet up with his friends for some time to relax.

_“You know, most people view relationships as things that are relaxing,”_ Seoho would tell him while Geonhak was laying on the floor of his apartment while they waited for the others to arrive for their movie night on the weekends. _“Most people don’t view them as chores.”_

Geonhak merely glared at him passed his page of notes he was reviewing just to be safe. _“Most people aren’t me.”_

Seoho merely hummed, the set up too easy. _“No, they_ certainly _are not.”_

Geonhak threw his pillow at him, huffing. _“If I dated someone, I’d be required to put in a certain amount of time commitment to be considered a good boyfriend. I don’t have time to be meeting quotas.”_

_“You find time to hang out with us around everything,”_ Seoho would continue to press, like there was some competition for who would give in first.

Well, that was how most of their conversations went, like each exchange was a game of tug of war, and Seoho was the one person that Geonhak refused to let win. Purely for the fact that letting him win would mean he’d gloat for the rest of Geonhak’s life.

For the sake of future peace, Seoho couldn’t win.

_“I can be unable to see you guys for two weeks and not be threatened with ending a relationship,”_ he’d huffed, rolling his eyes as he sat up. _“Relationships are basically being held hostage,”_ he said, cynical as always. _“Everything you do is colored with the fact that the other person can end things at a moment’s notice for whatever reason they want.”_

Seoho had openly laughed, as if that was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard, leaning off the couch to stare at Geonhak in that way that always made him want to knock him off the sofa.

_“Have you ever thought that maybe you just have a skewed sense of relationships? Because that’s not a normal way to think about them, dude.”_

Geonhak shrugged. _“That’s what they are.”_

_“Maybe you’re just scared of being a shitty boyfriend.”_

Now, Seoho may have been on to something, taking a poke at one of Geonhak’s secret insecurities. But the moment was ruined by Seoho’s shit eating grin and very obvious taunt that was mostly just calling Geonhak a little bitch inadvertently.

Basically, he was calling him a scaredy cat.

And that was the final straw as Geonhak grabbed him by the ankle and dragging him off the couch, ignoring the yelp and how Seoho clawed at the cushions in an attempt to save himself.

However, despite both of them being considered above average strength, Seoho was never quite strong enough to wriggle away from him as Geonhak got him on the ground, standing and stepping over as if threatening to start beating him-

Seoho was laughing too hard to be properly threatened, merely holding his hands out in an attempt to stop him from getting any closer, but Geonhak merely knocked them out of the way, only making Seoho laugh harder as he tried to curl up to protect his exposed stomach.

Geonhak grabbed his wrists, his face that familiar mixture of exasperated, laughing, and threatening. The sort of one he wore when he threatened to beat Seoho up while knowing that at most he might smack the back of his head or something.

It was most infuriating that Seoho also knew that, and was never truly intimidated by anything Geonhak threatened, only taunting him further, no matter how close to beating his ass Geonhak was.

_“You would be an awful boyfriend,”_ He laughed as Geonhak successfully pinned down his flailing legs by sitting on them. _“You can’t even take a joke-“_

_“If I would ever choose to date someone, I’d be an awesome boyfriend,”_ Geonhak muttered, not putting much thought in defending himself and instead focusing on keeping hold of Seoho’s twisting limbs that tried to turn the tables.

_“You would think of them as a jail warden- no one’s going to appreciate that, dude.”_

_“They’d understand what I meant.”_

_“You think?”_ Seoho laughed, head finally dropped back as laughing made his abs hurt. _“I would dare you to date someone, but I wouldn’t want to put some poor innocent bystander through that-“_

Geonhak made to push forward, to break the lock of Seoho’s elbows, but the asshole simply let his arms bend anyway, upsetting their balance and making him cry out triumphantly as he scrambled out from beneath the other, stumbling to his feet and leaping away as Geonhak got to his feet.

Both of them froze, a short distance separating them, but neither of them making a move yet, arms and legs braced to make a run in any direction.

_“Would you do it, then?”_ Seoho questioned, shifting when Geonhak did. He was smiling so wide, so triumphantly, Geonhak felt that ever familiar rise in his chest.

The rise that had once made him study for three days straight just to get a higher score than Seoho on their exam for a Literature class they had shared.

The one that made him first to volunteer if it meant an opportunity to beat Seoho in anything.

The one that made their friends shake their heads and hide their faces when the two of them stared at each other like two runner’s at the beginning of a race, asking what competition they thought they were going into-

It was the one that made it so damn impossible for Geonhak to let Seoho get away with anything because Seoho would gloat. And not in the same way the others did- Seoho just made Geonhak feel like everything from eating to breathing was an excuse to beat him.

And now, somehow, after three years of avoiding this moment, Geonhak was standing on the threshold of a door he’d always known might open, but that Seoho had either never noticed or never bothered with, until this moment.

_“If I dared you to go out with someone and prove you weren’t a shit boyfriend… would you actually do it?”_ he questioned, grinning as if this was the highlight of his week.

The worst part of it was everything Seoho didn’t say.

Would you actually do it… or will you wimp out?

Exams weren’t for another three weeks, but Geonhak had been spending way too much time secluded in the library for him to even think about letting Seoho suspect he might hesitate.

Hesitation was weakness.

_“Sure,”_ he said, making Seoho blink, momentarily stunned at the response.

Oh, and it made Geonhak giddy when he actually got the upper hand on Seoho.

Because Seoho was slippery with his words. He talked in circles and somehow ended up six miles away from where you thought he was. He may have never beaten Geonhak in a show of physical strength, but when Geonhak actually managed to catch him off guard, it was elating.

Words were never his strong suit, and winning a battle of them was always glorious.

_“I’d do it,”_ he repeated, feeling his confidence bolster. _“What’s in it for me?”_

_“For you to be able to convince someone to actually date you and stay that way?”_ Seoho said, slowly catching his breath. _“Literally whatever you want,”_ he said, laughing under his breath.

Geonhak huffed, eyes narrowing. _“Is it really that impossible to think that I’d be able to date someone long term?”_

_“Yes,”_ Seoho said without hesitation, laughing brightly at whatever Geonhak’s expression did. _“Because,”_ he stressed, _“I know that the likelihood of_ you _backing out is way higher.”_

_“So I’m gonna get penalized for leaving a relationship I don’t like?”_ he challenged.

_“No, you’ll be penalized for not actually giving a relationship a chance, and leaving- not because you don’t like it- but because you’re you and you run away from commitment and shit.”_

Geonhak may have stared a bit too long, mouth flapping at such a blatant accusation.

It wasn’t like the others didn’t understand his motives, but… usually they were spoken in much different words.

_“So, if you’re gonna win that sort of bet, you need to prove that you actually tried, and that you aren’t just backing out because you’re scared, and that the other person isn’t just putting up with you. And that-“_

_“How the hell am I supposed to prove all that?”_ he demanded, rolling his eyes. _“Are you going to tie a fucking camera to my forehead?”_ He jerked a finger at his temple, exasperated but unable to back down now.

His heart was already twisting at the thought of having to find someone compatible.

Dating strangers was fucking terrifying. How was he supposed to know whether a random stranger from a coffee shop would be someone he liked? Was he seriously expected to just work his way through waves of people- dating a week at a time, like some sort of Bachelor style game show?

That sounded exhausting.

But Seoho hummed, eyes narrowing in thought as he rested his chin on his fist, staring Geonhak down, as if analyzing every option- as if he also realized that knowing all of that information would be hard without crossing lines of propriety.

Seoho was truly terrifying while trying to calculate. Be it a dare or some weird ass math equation that he treated like a game.

Geonhak stood still, though, and let Seoho find a way around the predicament of privacy.

Seoho, at length, finally hummed, shrugging- as if he were giving up, but Geonhak knew him too well to think that was an option.

_“I guess you’ll just have to date me.”_

Well, Geonhak thought he knew him well.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. No surprise, no disbelief. Geonhak just stared, entirely aware of what Seoho had just said but not entirely sure what his reaction was supposed to be.

He could laugh, tackle him, and refuse to let the topic ever come up again.

Except Seoho was staring at him, eyebrow cocked, as if asking Geonhak what he thought of that solution. Genuinely asking his opinion.

Which meant he wasn’t kidding.

He wasn’t even just being a dick.

He was serious.

_“What the fuck?”_ was all that managed to come out of his mouth as he stared dumbly.

Seoho snorted, as if this was the funniest thing ever, half-doubling over before straightening. _“You heard me.”_

_“Yeah, I heard you, but I’m wondering- What the_ fuck _?”_ he repeated. _“Why would I date you?”_

Seoho gasped, placing a hand to his chest. _“I’m wounded,”_ he breathed, shaking his head. _“I have plenty of good qualities-“_

_“Is showing those like a waiting-till-marriage situation?”_ he questioned flatly-

_“I’m older!”_ he huffed, crossing his arms. _“Can’t you speak respectfully just once-“_

_“No.”_

_“Okay, fine,”_ Seoho sighed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. _“I’m just saying, it’s the only way to truly know the bet was won,”_ He said firmly. _“Without, of course, involving some poor bystander. Best way to know the intimacies of your relationship would be to be part of it.”_

Geonhak was still trying to wrap his head about “date me.”

_“But I don’t want to date you.”_

_“You don’t_ want _to date anyone,”_ Seoho reminded him, laughing under his breath. _“At least this way you’re not starting from scratch, right?”_

He was actually serious.

And because he was serious, Geonhak couldn’t just back away because that meant admitting defeat, and he would rather date Seoho, have Seoho give up on him for being a shitty boyfriend, and then go back to living his life without any relationships to take up his time.

He’d rather accept the challenge and fail, instead of just backing out.

But holy shit, the thought of dating one of his best friends was enough to weird him out like nothing else ever had (including that one bacteria growth pattern that Seoho had showed him from one of his classes).

Especially Seoho of all people.

Wouldn’t they just end up killing each other before any decision was made?

Geonhak tried to imagine what couples do- doing that with Seoho.

The only issue was, he’d never been in a relationship to know what that entailed, and he knew better than to use movies as a point of reference.

So, he was essentially blindfolded and standing on the edge of a hole, being given the option to either jump down or admit defeat.

And well… there was only one answer to those two options.

_“Do we have a deal?”_ Seoho asked, holding out a hand with another shit eating grin of triumph.

Fear or not, Geonhak had never backed down from a challenge Seoho gave him.

Relationship or not… Geonhak would at least prove that he was passable as a boyfriend, even if he ultimately failed. It wasn’t like he cared what Seoho thought of him anyway.

He didn’t have anyone to impress.

He just couldn’t bear the thought of backing down.

So, he sighed, groaning and huffing and rolling his eyes in exasperation.

And by the way Seoho’s grin grew wider, he knew he had already won.

Geonhak crossed the distance between them, shaking the hand in a sealed deal.

_“Fine,”_ he huffed, glaring. _“This is going to be the worst time of my life.”_

Seoho shook the hand gleefully. _“It’s going to be the most amusing time of mine,”_ he assured him.

The apartment door opened- the others filing in after Youngjo had picked them up, everyone freezing and frowning in confusion at the two of them standing there.

Geonhak had completely forgot about this extra detail: their friends.

Seoho, however, did not hesitate to grab Geonhak by the shoulder, pressing their face together like those cringy photo booth examples.

_“We’re dating!”_ he declared, like he was announcing a pregnancy.

Geonhak barely repressed the urge to shove him off, only spared by the fact it was a little funny to watch everyone’s faces simultaneously drop in horror- similar to Geonhak’s thought.

They were absolutely going to kill each other before this bet even got started.

~~~~~~~~~

Geonhak managed to make it home before the snow truly began to fall, avoiding the annoyance of having it crusting to his boots and flooding his entrance area.

He kicked off his slightly dampened tennis shoes, setting them aside as he shed his coat, breathing out a quiet breath of relief as the warmth of the apartment pressed against his chilled skin. He shook out his hair of any small, stray flakes, stepping into the small living room that was as neat and empty as he’d left it this morning.

He had leftover rice in the fridge for the hunger settled lightly in his stomach, but he paused in the middle of the apartment for a moment, feeling oddly…

Well, he didn’t have a name for the emotion clinging to his skin, simply existing inside of it for a moment, letting the warm apartment break through the frigidity of outside.

As he thawed out, he noticed the flakes beginning to fall faster outside the living room window, fluttering by in larger quantities, visible by the dying light of evening.

He swallowed as he glanced over the old sofa he’d had since college- still perfectly put together, but the dark grey of it had faded over the years. It stood bare, without even a throw pillow to spice up its color.

At one point in his life, it had always been cluttered with throw blankets, books, pencils that tried to escape into the cracks, and another person who always demanded to sit on the left side because everywhere else “felt wrong.”

If Geonhak was stupid enough to close his eyes, he could imagine the exact sensation of walking into the apartment to Seoho already waiting there.

The two of them had never officially lived together, each having their own separate leases closer to their respective jobs, but they’d spent enough time at both apartments that their things had been scattered equally between the two points across town.

But when Seoho chose to spend time at Geonhak’s small, tidy, minimalist apartment, he always brought enough junk with him to make Geonhak twitch, but he never said anything.

Because he viewed dating Seoho like a social experiment, at first.

Geonhak always thought when he dated someone, they would be like him. Someone softer spoken, someone neat and more concerned with keeping a good routine than going on some sort of adventure.

And what he got was Seoho… who was basically opposite to that in every aspect.

And yet… that somehow made him unforgettable in ways that someone like Geonhak could never be. That jarring, boisterous personality was the one that still stained the walls of Geonhak’s home, even a year later.

Seoho sitting on his couch with binders, notebooks, and journals scattered around as myriad of colored pens were strewn across the cushions and the coffee table- one of them even stuck behind his ear as he almost glared at whatever chart he was currently examining.

He always looked annoyed when Geonhak would first enter- before Seoho would look up- caught up in working through whatever puzzle that lab he worked at had given him. He wasn’t actually annoyed, but a concentrated Seoho always looked one wrong word away from snapping.

But by the time Geonhak had fully shut the door, prepared to scold Seoho for not letting him know ahead of time he was coming, Seoho would already be glancing up, and his expression would clear like clouds from a rainy day.

He’d smile.

Geonhak always thought relationships would be… hard. A constant, fearful battle to keep someone’s favor for fear of what they may do if you lost it. It felt like being held hostage, being forced to care about people who held the power to break that as soon as it suited their fancy.

He refused to be held hostage by his emotions.

But…

In the dark parts of his heart, the ones that weren’t so pessimistic, he had wished that liking someone would be easier than that. That it was possible for a relationship to be easy-going and comfortable.

The sort of interactions where they could simply sit in silence together. Where Geonhak could come home and not be expected the entertain them, just because he was here. Where he wasn’t expected to have food ready because he was also tired from work.

Where he could enter and exit a room, and they wouldn’t even look at him, and he would be free to move around without thinking he’d need to hold a conversation or pass an inspection.

Geonhak’s secret, ideal relationship was a passive one.

Passive was something Seoho had never been. And yet somehow… it worked.

Seoho would smile when Geonhak came in, a silent statement that he was glad to see him. It was always bright and genuine on days when they hadn’t seen each other in a while, and it was more casual and brief on days when Seoho was on a deadline- returning to his work directly, but never without giving at least a brief flash of smile to the newcomer.

Geonhak never thought he would want something like that. Because then, he’d have to smile back, even when he didn’t feel like it, because that was what you did. You couldn’t worry a significant other.

But Seoho wasn’t a significant other. Not really. Seoho was just Seoho.

Just someone who had been Geonhak’s friend since their first year of university, and had been… “dating” him since the beginning of their last year. Seoho was someone Geonhak had spent so much time fighting, he knew him inside and out. He knew when Seoho was really mad and when he was just trying to get a rise out of him.

Seoho knew when Geonhak was just being quiet, like he always was, and when his silence was hiding true annoyance or something else.

So, when Seoho smiled at Geonhak, he would smile back, if he felt like. And if he didn’t feel like smiling… he didn’t. And that was okay.

If it was bad enough, Seoho would drop his smile, setting his book a side for a moment.

_“Did something happen?”_

It was a courtesy question, because as always… Seoho knew when Geonhak was just tired and when there was something hiding beneath the surface.

And Geonhak didn’t feel pressured to tell him anything. When Geonhak did reveal what had ruined his day- be it a shitty coworker or just stepping in a puddle on the way home- it was because it was Seoho.

Seoho was his friend, before anything else. And the ease of operation the two of them had as friends hadn’t disappeared when their relationship progressed.

If you could call a stupid dare that had long since been forgotten to be “progress.”

Sometimes, Geonhak would flop on the couch next to him, almost ruining his organized notes. Sometimes, he just headed straight for a shower. Sometimes, he asked if Seoho had already eaten as he shuffled towards the kitchen for food.

None of that had ever felt like a burden. They’d been friends in university- Geonhak was used to Seoho existing in his space from movie nights, sleep overs, and all-nighters.

Sometimes, Seoho was a piece of shit- poking at Geonhak and asking to be fed despite Geonhak swatting and rolling away and saying he was tired and Seoho was a grown man, go make your own food-

Sometimes, Seoho was quiet and simply returned to his work.

Sometimes, Seoho had no work with him and was simply waiting and playing on his phone. When Geonhak would sit down, he would shift closer on the couch, showing him whatever recent video he found hysterical.

Sometimes, Seoho was wearing his own brand of tired after staring at a screen for eight hours, eyes tired and a headache growing behind his eyes. When Geonhak sat down, Seoho would sigh in relief, as if he had been waiting for the moment, and flop across Geonhak’s lap as if he intended to fall asleep right there.

Geonhak always complained and told him to go home if he was tired… but it took very little time before he accepted this as part of the routine he was so obsessed with keeping.

After all, Seoho was good at getting what he wanted by sheer stubborn willpower.

And surprisingly… shockingly… impossibly… with time, Geonhak had stopped fighting him so hard before ultimately giving in, finally catching on that there were some battles that were okay to give in to.

Geonhak opened his eyes, still staring at the worn, empty couch. The couch that hadn’t held anyone but him in a year now.

His eyes flickered to the snowy window, his socked feet carrying him towards the small glass pane. He stood there for a moment, staring out absently at the glowing business signs, the streetlights, the people roaming to and fro…

Everything was beginning to dust with snow.

He lifted a hand, pressing bare fingertips to the glass, immediately feeling the icy glass pressing back against him- the edges around his fingers beginning to fog from the warmth of his hand that was slowly sapped by the cold hardness.

It was the startling juxtaposition of the icy glass to the warm air of the apartment…

Winter had always been their season.

Winter was when Geonhak would come home, finding Seoho fast asleep on the couch, wrapped up in a heated blanket he’d stolen from Geonhak’s closet- accidentally putting himself to sleep with the warmth after walking in the icy snow.

It made it easier to sit together, arms and legs tangled while they both complained that it was still too fucking cold, despite the heater being on high. Seoho would shove his hands under whatever article of clothing Geonhak was wearing, holding on like his life depended on it when Geonhak would struggle to get the icy fingers off of his skin-

Seoho would laugh triumphantly when Geonhak gave up, too concerned with positioning a blanket correctly to conserve the most warmth. He’d push closer, just to annoy the younger, purposefully pushing against him hard enough that Geonhak’s only choice was to wrap arms around him or have his limbs crushed.

Winter was Seoho demanding they walk to a café and get something to drink, even though it was snowing and neither of them even liked coffee. They always went anyway.

Seoho used those as excuses to demand Geonhak hold his hand, claiming it was to keep them from getting frost bite- the length of whining until Geonhak gave in reducing with every instance.

So many things, Geonhak had dismissed in the beginning as Seoho just trying to get a rise out of him.

Things they did out of spite or annoyance… somehow became second nature. Things that were mocking requirements because they were dating now were gaining meaning and warmth behind the gestures.

Geonhak began grabbing Seoho’s hand as soon as they exited the apartment.

He’d already be grabbing his wallet before Seoho could even ask to go to the café, when the days started to get colder.

And more often than not, he passed his card over before Seoho could even get his wallet out, wherever they went.

_“You treated me the last, like, six times,”_ he would complain, glaring despite his hand still clasped in his. _“The others are going to call me a bad hyung if you don’t stop.”_

_“You are a bad hyung,”_ Geonhak said, just to make Seoho tug on him in retaliation, demanding to know how the hell he was a bad hyung-

They’d sit at the table for so long, their cups were long empty. Seoho would glance at the time, ask if Geonhak needed to get back for work in the morning.

Geonhak, without fail, shrugged and said he could stay as late as they wanted. They were both comfortable, so they stayed.

The first time Geonhak returned to the café after last year’s first snow, the barista had smiled as she took his order. _“No boyfriend today?”_

An innocent question.

No. No boyfriend today. Or probably ever again.

Geonhak stopped going to that café, if he could help it.

There were a lot of things Geonhak stopped doing, now that he was on his own. He stopped going out at 10 PM for a craving of street food. He stopped staying up late watching dramas he hadn’t wanted to watch to begin with, but that he got into because it made it easier to keep up with what Seoho ranted about.

He stopped buying two of everything.

He stopped coming home to someone there. He stopped having somewhere to go when his little, clean apartment would get too lonely. He stopped walking to places with company.

And he stopped thinking that there would ever be an “again,” no matter how his friends tried to comfort him.

Because this was what he had been afraid of his entire life: putting everything into a relationship that someone could throw away at a moment’s notice.

And Geonhak was not even afforded a moment’s notice.

He still had his friends, of course. They had been the first to storm his apartment when they heard what happened, gentle questions of what went wrong, what happened, did they fight-

That had only made it worse, a litany of questions that Geonhak didn’t have answers to.

They offered to talk to Seoho, to see what upset it, they reassured him that he was probably just going through something, to just wait and see… Seoho would come back, they told him.

A year later, that was still false, but it had only taken Geonhak a week back then to realize this was how it would go.

It was solidified 13 days after the first snow when Geonhak came home and found every single piece of junk Seoho had accumulated in his apartment suddenly cleaned out. Seoho had left the apartment as clean as Geonhak ever had, leaving his copy of the key on the counter.

Next to the key was a box of Geonhak’s things that had been left at Seoho’s. Just some clothes, some hygiene items, and the occasional book or knickknack, but it was there.

Geonhak drew his hand away from the icy window in his empty apartment, shaking his head as he walked towards the kitchen, not looking at the counter because he’d start thinking about the scars Seoho had left in it- the same as the sofa.

He grabbed a container of cold leftover noodles and left to his bedroom, not looking at anything that he passed on the way.

This was his first winter in so long without Seoho there.

At first, it was just as university students. But three years after they had graduated, and this was his first time seeing snow without Seoho standing next to him making some weird comment about snow-related deaths or something gentle about how it was pretty.

There usually wasn’t an in between.

_“Ya,”_ Geonhak would huff, turning to him with a mixture of discomfort, annoyance, and amusement. _“Can you not just say something normal for once?”_

Seoho merely grinned, as if annoying Geonhak had been his plan all along.

It was the exact same as when they were students. Except it wasn’t.

Because while in university, Geonhak had sucked it up and dated Seoho just to make sure the older couldn’t say he won their bet.

Geonhak waited for his world to flip on its head, waited for Seoho to turn obnoxious, waited for him to do his best to make Geonhak run away, waited for him to regret ever agreeing to it.

All Geonhak received, instead, was good morning texts and a bright smiles when he and Seoho met up for lunch (an invitation that had accompanied the good morning text).

He waited for Seoho to try and make a big deal about holding his hand, or try and get him to kiss him, or… something else annoying.

But they ate lunch as normal, sitting in the cafeteria while they complained about classes.

_“Did you seriously give up that quickly?”_ Geonhak had asked when they left the lunch room, catching Seoho’s arm to stop him from walking away. 

Seoho blinked, looking genuinely perplexed for a moment. _“Give up what?”_

_“On dating me?”_

_“What do you think I’m doing now?”_ He questioned, gesturing between the two of them, eyebrow lifted in a genuine question.

_“You’re not doing anything different,”_ Geonhak said flatly. _“You’re just acting like we usually do.”_

Seoho looked confused again. _“What did you think dating would be like?”_

Geonhak suddenly raised his shields, trying not to look as stupid as he felt. _“Well, there are rules and stuff about dating-“_

_“Says who?”_

_“Everyone.”_

_“Are you dating everyone?”_ Seoho placed his hands on his hips, squaring himself in a way that told Geonhak there was no way to win whatever argument they were having. _“Do you want me to act different?”_

_“No,”_ he was sure to assure him, wrinkling his nose. He couldn’t imagine the two of them being… soft or cute. Not like the couples you saw littered across campus, sitting in each other’s laps and feeding each other food.

They were more likely to be rolling around on the floor, chasing each other down halls, or stealing food that the other bought.

_“Then what’s the problem?”_ Seoho demanded, looking triumphant.

There… was no problem.

Geonhak learned over the following months that… for whatever reason, Seoho made dating seem easy. He didn’t demand Geonhak’s attention, he always asked if he was busy the same as he always did, and they didn’t really see each other much more than they ever did- save for the fact that they maybe hung out with just the two of them a bit more.

The only difference was that Geonhak got a good morning text, and Seoho would hold out a hand expectantly when they were on their way anywhere together.

Geonhak’s initial reaction was to slap the hand away, but… well, there were worse things Seoho could demand of him. Holding hands was pretty mild, especially considering they usually did that among their friends anyway.

Slinging an arm around each other’s shoulders, linking arms, resting on each other whenever they had a moment’s pause… these were normal for them, really.

_“Are you not going to try and get me to kiss you or something?”_ Geonhak demanded while the two of them did homework together in Seoho’s off-campus apartment.

Seoho looked up from his chemistry notes, frowning in something like offense. _“Do you think I go around kissing people so easily?”_ he questioned. _“I don’t just kiss anyone, okay?”_

Geonhak rolled his eyes. _“Yeah, but we’re-“_

He stopped, watching Seoho continue to look at him curiously.

He’s wanted to say “but we’re not really dating.” But that… wasn’t 100% true. For all intents and purposes, they were dating- it wasn’t just some short term bet. They were both in this for some long term journey, until they either proved Geonhak sucked at dating or that he was good enough to keep a relationship.

The remainder of their time at university was… mostly composed of Geonhak realizing that… treating Seoho like a significant other wasn’t as hard as he thought because… well, Seoho didn’t expect to be treated any differently than usual.

And that threw Geonhak off. Because that was against some rule, somewhere. Right?

Seoho laughed at him each time, telling him that there weren’t _rules_ to follow. You just… did it.

Geonhak was pretty sure that was bullshit, but he went along with it because… well, Seoho was the first person he ever dated. He’d rather get it all cleared up with him, rather than some stranger in the future.

There were no less than a dozen points of their school life that Geonhak would pause, look at Seoho in confusion and ask: _“You’re not going to ask me to kiss you?”_

Seoho would look up from what he was doing- either homework or a movie- and lift a slow eyebrow. _“Do you want me to kiss you?”_

Geonhak would wrinkle his nose, despite the fact that he’d accepted that they were actually dating. The thought was still weird. _“Not really.”_

Seoho would shrug and return to what he was doing without another word.

Dating Seoho was easy. They still fought like two birds fighting over a worm, but it was never… weird. It was comfortable. And that was something Geonhak never though a relationship could be.

_“How am I doing?”_ he asked Seoho one day at lunch, months into their relationship.

Seoho regarded him carefully, humming and tilting his head just to make Geonhak squirm. _“Perfect,”_ Seoho told him, taking him by surprise. _“I can’t find a way to tell you to improve. You might want to try being more vocal,”_ he added with a tell-tale shit eating grin. _“You just stand there a lot.”_

Geonhak threw a spoon at him.

It was… comfortable.

_“Is that so hard to believe?”_ Seoho laughed when Geonhak told him as they walked downtown during spring break. _“That you wouldn’t hate being in a relationship?”_

_“Yeah, but this doesn’t really count, does it. You and I were already friends. That’s why its easy.”_

Seoho looked at Geonhak like he was an idiot. _“You don’t have to just date strangers, dude. You can get to know someone before you date them. That’s your choice. And if they’re worth any of your time, they’ll respect that.”_

Seoho… respected that.

Seoho respected a lot of things about Geonhak, even if he tried to act like he didn’t. Like his routine of going to the gym in the afternoons after class- Seoho going with him, even if he whined like a child the whole time, he still _went._

Like the fact that Geonhak was much more willing to perform some physical form of affection- like holding his hand or leaning on him- rather than playing Seoho’s games of flirting/not flirting.

Like the fact that sometimes, Geonhak didn’t want to hang out. Like sometimes, even when they were hanging out, Geonhak didn’t have anything to say.

Seoho never made him.

And Geonhak wasn’t sure if there would ever be someone he could date that would already know him as well as Seoho did. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be willing to put in the time and effort it took to know someone that well…

Knowing new people was exhausting.

He didn’t need to, though, because… well, Seoho and he just stuck around.

Geonhak was almost waiting for a deadline to hit. For Seoho to declare his bet won, for the two of them to break it off and for Geonhak to go back to his regular life, which wasn’t much different than this life…

But finals were approaching for their senior year… and neither of them had said anything about the bet.

The bet hadn’t been mentioned in months.

And Geonhak wasn’t sure what to do. So, he didn’t say anything- he simply studied his ass off. He needed a high A on two different exams to get A’s in the classes, and he was _determined_ to get them. 

He studied in the library, in his dorm, with the others in a group… but he studied an awful lot with Seoho, just the two of them. Seoho would quiz him, or just sit there with his own study material as they worked in silence.

Geonhak would take breaks in a the form of getting them water and snacks, passing them to Seoho silently, who accepted them with thanks.

That week before finals, Geonhak spent the night at Seoho’s a lot- falling asleep on his couch and waking up with a blanket over him.

_“If you want a bed, you’re gonna have to start falling asleep in one,”_ Seoho told him one morning. _“Because you’re too damn dense and heavy for me to carry.”_

Geonhak didn’t mind sleeping on the couch… and mostly, he wasn’t entirely sure how the hell he was supposed to insert himself into Seoho’s bed like that.

Twice, Geonhak woke up, still curled up with his books, and with Seoho sleeping against him, blankets tangled with pencils and papers as Seoho pressed his face to Geonhak’s shoulder.

That…

Geonhak didn’t know how to describe it exactly, but that changed something. He didn’t know what, but something changed.

And it didn’t quite register what it was until finals were over and the six of them were at the annual finals party that the frats threw. Geonhak wasn’t huge on alcohol- none of them really were. But, even with the nerves of not knowing how he did on his exams, he enjoyed walking around and watching Hwanwoong be convinced to do increasingly sexier dances without the help of alcohol.

Keonhee had the karaoke mic in the living room and Dongju was yelling song requests from the crowd, also accusing Keonhee that he was flat. Youngjo was somewhere in the kitchen, probably watching the punch bowl to make sure no one tried to slip something into the nonalcoholic drinks.

Geonhak had lost sight of Seoho moments after they entered, but he knew that the sound of karaoke would draw him out eventually.

It was well passed midnight when Geonhak was standing on the edge of a crowd with a bag of chips to replace any sort of drink, laughing with Keonhee as Dongju sang some kid’s song into the karaoke mic.

The sight of dozens of plastered college students head banging to Three Little Bears was carefully stored away to revisit in the future.

A hand grabbed Geonhak, spinning him around quickly, only startling him for a moment before he recognized Seoho through the haze of flashing lights and loud music.

_”Where have you been-“_

_“Grades have been posted!”_ Seoho yelled over the noise, holding his phone up and pointing to it, eyes completely sober. Geonhak was pretty sure they had maybe consumed two cups of beer between the six of them.

Geonhak nearly dropped his chips, shoving them into Seoho’s arms as he fumbled to get his phone from his back pocket, heart beginning to race.

_“Come on,”_ he muttered, fingers tapping in his passcode and finding the grading portal. _“Come on, be above a 94… At least a 95, please-“_

_“There’s no way you did worse than that,”_ Seoho said, voice quiet but suddenly clear in his ear, hands braced on his shoulder as he peered over his shoulder, squeezing in his own nerves. _“I quizzed you on this stuff, there’s no way.”_

These were their final exams as graduating seniors… that came with a different kind of fear of failure.

Geonhak stared at the little, spinning circle that told him the page was loading, feeling Seoho pressing closer, breathing quietly against his back.

When the page came up, Geonhak only stared long enough to look at two grades that were matching numbers.

_“Ninety-sevens!”_

He whipped around, eyes wide and stomach swooping in relief as he stared at Seoho, probably indistinguishable between horror and disbelief.

Even in the dim light, Seoho’s eyes lit up just as bright, smile breaking across his face- the two of them hugging without hesitation, Seoho practically trying to lift him off the ground. They stumbled into a few people, but everyone around them was probably too drunk to care.

He was graduated now.

He’d gotten the grades he wanted.

That fucking week of hell studying was over and paid off… Seoho’s help had paid off.

Geonhak broke away, Seoho still shaking him, maybe just to be annoying or maybe a genuine display of emotion.

_“Thanks,”_ he said, throat suddenly a little tight at the thought of all the help Seoho had given him.

And not just in studying.

Seoho grinned, and Geonhak expected him to scoff it off and call him a nerd, or something equally offensive… but he was just smiling, hands holding onto Geonhak’s biceps firmly.

_“Do you want me to kiss you_ now _?”_

In a similar fashion to the moment Seoho had said the two of them should date, Geonhak heard the words, processed them, but blanked on what the proper response was.

That blankness was only present for a moment as he stared at Seoho.

Oh…

Was that what changed?

_“Yeah,”_ Geonhak somehow managed to say, watching the way it made Seoho smile wider, laughing. _“Do_ you _want to kiss me?”_ he challenged, waiting for Seoho to dodge it.

Instead, Seoho grabbed him by the neck and kissed him like it was something he’d been waiting for.

That was the moment Geonhak realized that… maybe there was something there that neither of them had exactly realized.

That was the moment he truly realized what Seoho meant to him- a bet miles away from any thought crossing their minds.

Geonhak closed the door of his bedroom, sitting down on his bed with his cold noodles, huffing and shaking his head sharply to clear out the memories that came despite his best efforts. The container was cold as he pulled blankets over his legs to stay warm.

Eating cold noodles on the first snow wasn’t ideal, was it?

He didn’t really have the strength to really care. It was almost like a day that once been so stupidly special… was just something that made him tired now.

He’d barely taken a single bite of noodles in the darkness of his room when his phone went off with a text.

**RaFlame:** _Are you home?_

Geonhak only considered lying for a moment before confirming that he was, in fact, home.

Seconds later, there was a loud knock at his door.

He laughed, despite himself, as he stood from the bed, bringing his noodles with him as he shuffled to the front door, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath at how fucking extra his friends were.

He opened the door to Youngjo standing there with a red face and coat bundled up with snow clinging to his hair and boots, showing how much it had already flurried.

In his hand was a to-go bag.

Geonhak stared at him for a moment, brow lifting. “Did you seriously text me after you were already here?”

“It was a courtesy,” Youngjo said, smiling as he stepped into the entrance hall after Geonhak stepped back. His eyes flickered over the Tupperware in his hand. “Are you really eating cold noodles for dinner?”

He stared pointedly at the food in the older’s hand. “Doesn’t seem like I will be for long…”

Youngjo sighed, finished removing all his layers. “So, I was right to come over,” he tutted. “You’re practically wallowing.” He lifted the bag with a grin. “It’s chicken and broth.”

Well, cold noodles aside that sounded really fucking good at the moment. He took the bag, bringing it to the coffee table as Youngjo entered fully.

“What’s the occasion?” he question as he unpacked the steaming containers, glancing over his shoulder. “You’re not one for impromptu dinners.”

Youngjo liked planning weeks in advance to make sure everyone could attend without excuses to miss.

He set up bowls and Youngjo still hadn’t answered, so he glanced over his shoulder.

The older stared at Geonhak with a quiet, knowing smile that made his stomach sink slowly as he straightened, leaving the food alone for a moment. Youngjo’s eyes and smile were warm.

Understanding.

“It’s the first snow,” Youngjo said simply, but the statement felt like a weight placed against Geonhak’s chest. “I figured… you might want the company.”

Geonhak stared numbly, stupidly for a moment, not having a clue of what to say.

It had been months since any of them had even referenced Seoho in front of him, and the sudden acknowledgement caught him off guard, especially since Youngjo was standing here with an expression that said he absolutely understood what Geonhak was going through.

Geonhak’s tongue unstuck from his cheek as he straightened, trying not to look devastated when he was really just… tired.

“The forecast didn’t say it would snow today,” he said quietly, glancing from the food to his hyung.

Youngjo simply shrugged.

Geonhak’s arms dropped where they had crossed his chest, stomach sinking further. “Did you seriously run over after seeing it start snowing?”

Youngjo simply smiled guiltily, gently. “It wasn’t like it was out of my way,” he excused. “I was on my way back from the studio.”

Geonhak wanted to scold him, to tell him he didn’t need to, to tell him he was just worrying, to tell him that he didn’t need a reminder of what had happened-

Instead, he simply released a quiet breath, walking around and sitting on the couch. “Thanks,” He muttered genuinely, chest feeling a bit lighter.

He’d never admit it… but he appreciated the company, as opposed to staying alone for the evening when he’d already been struggling to keep his mind off of everything anyway.

Youngjo simply smiled wider, taking his own seat. “It’s not a problem… Do you want the extra rice?”

And just like that… no mention was made as to the specific reason Youngjo was here.

They ate and talked as normal- Youngjo talking about his latest track and asking if Geonhak would be willing to add to it, if he had time between work at the education center.

Geonhak made what promises he could, realizing that it had maybe been a bit too long since he’d seen any of the others… It wasn’t his fault, the fall weather had turned icy and Geonhak got a bit harder to reach during those months.

Because fall and winter were a time for being melancholy and lonely, he’d decided. They were a time for staring out at beautiful leaves and chilly weather while waring ugly sweaters and wondering why you had to spend it alone.

Winter had become holding hand warmers instead of linking fingers, and it was sipping hot chocolate where warm lips had existed. It was hugging electric blankets because there was no body to lay beside you to chase the chill. And it was convincing yourself that you weren’t thinking of him with every stitch of artificial warmth you sought out. 

Geonhak was tired of artificial.

And he was especially tired of being alone, but not in a way that a presence like Youngjo’s could fix for long.

Maybe only time would ever fix it completely.

This was the worst part of relationships that Geonhak hadn’t even prepared himself for… the fact that once that person ended it on their whim… you were left with scars that ached even a year later.

Like it was somehow your _fault_?

People talked about being unable to move on, but they never talked about how it wasn’t his scent or his laugh or his memories that wouldn’t leave Geonhak along, it was _everything._

Seoho had existed for so long, so intimately in Geonhak’s life- in a way that no one else had ever had a chance to- and now, Geonhak didn’t know how to clean that part of himself up because _no one_ _else_ had ever made a mess of it like Seoho had.

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do because there was nothing to trigger the memories, they just existed in every part of Geonhak’s life, even the parts he tried to erase.

They didn’t jump out and attack him like monsters hiding along his path, they were ever present- stained and burned into every surface, never a moment without them, even when he might learn to ignore them for a time.

Everything from his walk to work, to his stupid sofa was tainted by it.

And even as the suffocating part of it eased with Youngjo to distract and comfort him, Geonhak knew that it would come back.

It always did.

And that was probably the part of Seoho Geonhak hated most… the part that decided Geonhak should have to suffer from a relationship he didn’t ask for, want, or even _end._

Why was he the one left aching when it was all Seoho, from the very beginning?

How had Geonhak convinced himself so thoroughly that being in love with Seoho would magically mean he was safe? How did he ever think he was safe from those fears he’d always held?

And most… most importantly…

How could Seoho be so cruel, even knowing every part of Geonhak that he knew…?

Why had he made it hurt so bad, when he knew that this was the summation of everything he’d ever told Geonhak he didn’t have to be afraid of?

How had Seoho managed to convince Geonhak that he would be different?

~~~~~~~~~

“Here.”

Seoho glanced up from the charts he’d had his nose pressed to for the past three hours, eyes bleary from staring at the papers so closely, blinking hard to see the cup hovering in front of him.

“You got coffee?” Seoho questioned, taking it the warm to-go cup. “It’s 7 PM.”

“It’s not coffee, you don’t drink coffee,” Geonhak scoffed, sitting next to him on the couch.

“Well, you don’t drink it either,” Seoho pointed out, eyeing the cup in Geonhak’s hand that he took a sip from.

“This isn’t coffee, either.”

“You don’t get sugary drinks, much less so late at night,” he pressed, suspicious as he glared at the cup he had been gifted.

“I didn’t poison it,” he huffed, rolling his eyes and taking a sip of the hot drink. “It’s just a hot mocha without the coffee, with the hazelnut syrup and vanilla drizzle. They were out of the whipped cream, though.”

Geonhak settled back on the couch, shaking out the chill from the walk home, and only after a prolonged silence did he bother looking back at Seoho who, surprisingly, hadn’t stopped staring at the cup.

“I didn’t poison it-“

“How did you know that?” Seoho finally demanded, turning to Geonhak in confusion. “How did you remember that?”

“Remember what?” he questioned, wondering if Seoho had spent too long staring at blood count charts.

“My order.”

Geonhak snorted, tilting his head back and staring at the ceiling. “That’s what you’re so pressed about?”

“I’ve never told you my order,” Seoho pointed out firmly, shaking the cup as much as he could without sacrificing any liquids inside.

He finally sighed, sitting up and leveling Seoho with a look that didn’t bother hiding the fact he was being stupid at the moment. “We get drinks from that café, like, three times a week,” he said flatly. “You get this drink nine times out of ten, especially when you have extra work.”

“You-“

“You said the sugar helps keep you awake.”

Seoho continued to stare at him, as if demanding how Geonhak didn’t see anything wrong with this.

“You seriously remembered that?”

He sat up further, his own confusion peaking. “It’s not like I committed your entire schedule to memory,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s a drink order, Seoho.” He crossed his arms. “Do you even know what I get?”

Seoho’s expression did the thing that it did when he got embarrassed- annoyance and indignation fighting for a moment before he turned away rapidly. “Your drink orders are stupid.”

“So: no,” he said smugly.

“Shut up,” Seoho snapped, glaring with his lips pushed out. “I didn’t ask you to pick anything up on your way home.”

“Odd way to say thank you,” he mused, leaning back again. “Here I am, being a good boyfriend and getting you something to help you through your dumb chart analyses, and all you can do is be offended I remembered to begin with.”

Seoho continued staring at the cup, holding it loosely, his exact expression obscured by the angle and his hair that fell down in his eyes. “I’m not offended,” he muttered, tilting his head to further hide his face.

Geonhak lifted a slow, expectant eyebrow.

Seoho took a sip of the drink, probably in an attempt to buy himself time.

“…. Thanks. This was… sweet of you.”

Geonhak scoffed, practically recoiling at the gentle words, shoving Seoho’s shoulder hard enough to jar him, but not make him spill the drink, immediately scooting away on the couch as the other whipped around- all embarrassment and kind words gone in the face of indignation.

“You _asshole_ -“

Geonhak had to set his drink down quick when Seoho placed his own down, leaping over the couch after Geonhak who was already racing towards his bedroom to lock the door and hide-

Seoho managed to get an arm around his waist, using momentum to throw them both to the ground.

It was freezing against the wood floor as he fought the limbs tangling with his, his shirt riding up and pressing his warmed skin to the frigid floor, which was only worse.

Geonhak didn’t seem what the big deal was.

Listening to things Seoho didn’t explicitly tell him…. Seemed like such a small thing to offer.

He was much more offended over being called _sweet_.

~~~~~~~~~

Geonhak woke up freezing, the lack of circulation caused by sleep making his limbs stiff and shivery.

He forced himself up anyway, putting on a warm, black turtleneck and dark washed jeans in hopes of conserving the pathetic amounts of warmth his body was trying to produce this early in the morning.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment.

_“This is a hideous sweater.”_

_“It’s a turtleneck, not a sweater.”_

_“It’s hideous.”_

_“So take it off.”_

_“… No.”_

_“It’s mine, Seoho.”_

_“It’s warm, fuck off.”_

After only a moment, he stripped it off, changing it for a regular white, long sleeved t-shirt and a heavy jacket.

He walked into the living room, grabbing his gym bag by the wall, and stared at the empty coffee table, all evidence of his and Youngjo’s dinner erased and put in the trash. He’d offered the older to stay the night, but he’d said he had an early morning, too.

Well, Geonhak’s early morning was more voluntary than Youngjo, who wasn’t getting up at the ass crack of dawn just to go to the gym.

_Seoho lifted his head up, hair wild from being stuffed beneath a pillow and eyes bleary with sleep and the early hour as Geonhak got dressed in darkness._

_“You’re seriously going to work out?” he croaked, drawing the blankets further around himself to ward off the chill._

_“You’re still asking that question?” Geonhak snickered as he picked up his sneakers to sit on the edge of the bed and put them on. “After so many years?”_

_“It’s fucking snowing outside.”_

_“It’s not snowing inside the gym.”_

_“It’s freezing.”_

_“You of all people should understand that circulation warms you up.”_

_“You still have, like, three hours before work.”_

_Geonhak glanced back, smirking. “So do you. So go back to sleep,” he said obviously._

_Seoho glared at him from beneath the mound of blankets he had pulled closer to himself. Geonhak knew what was about to come. It happened often, but nothing prompted it more than when the snow began to fall and the temperature dropped._

_“Just skip it today,” Seoho huffed, rubbing the warm blankets against his cheeks that were exposed to the air._

_“You’re just mad that your body heater is leaving,” he said, having already had this conversation a million times._

_“_ Yes _, I am mad that my body heater is leaving,” he huffed, glaring sharper. “Now get your ass back in the bed. Your biceps won’t disappear overnight. I might, however, if you actually put those shoes on.”_

_Geonhak sighed heavily, twisting to actually look at Seoho with a raised brow, silently asking it he thought that would work. He’d only ever broken his routine a few times since its creation…_

_And honestly, most of those times were because of Seoho, which only made him more resolute not to let him get away with it._

_But Seoho kept glaring… silent and angry, but with the barest hint of pleading that he’d never actually let show up._

_Geonhak paused._

_Seoho didn’t move, didn’t shift. But he could pick up the slightest glimmer of hope in his eyes that Geonhak would actually give in, at the younger’s hesitation._

_And Geonhak… because he was a good boyfriend… sighed, long and hard and heavy-_

_Seoho’s lips pulled up in a sharp grin with the triumph of having won._

_And Geonhak… was physically alarmed at how little he cared about losing as he climbed back under the covers._

Geonhak left without making breakfast, eager to get out of the little bubble of warmth, hoping that the shock of snow might jar his senses back.

The icy air did, in fact, feel like a slap to the face as he stepped out, walking through the slush on the sidewalk but staring at the pristine white that covered the rooftops, enjoying the contrast.

It didn’t surprise him that he only did about half of much of his workout routine that morning, losing motivation quickly, even as working out provided him a pleasant blankness of thought.

The issue came with sitting at the weight lifter and staring at the little metal bench pushed against one wall that used to always house Seoho on his phone.

_“If you don’t want to work out, you don’t have to come with me.”_

_Seoho didn’t even glance up from his phone. “Do you really think I_ have _to do anything?”_

_“If you’re just going to be on your phone, you can stay home…”_

_“This is good quality time together,” Seoho said, grinning. “Watching you work out is entertaining.”_

_Only years of practice kept him from chucking a weight at Seoho’s head._

Geonhak left the gym quicker than usual, getting to the education center earlier than usual and finding it mostly empty, save for the receptionist and a few workers with early tutor sessions, reviewing their lessons.

He sat at his desk after nodding quietly to them all, staring at the blank screen of his computer.

It was going to be a long day.

Or maybe a particularly harsh winter.

~~~~~~~~

“Here.”

Seoho jumped slightly, barely inside the door of his own apartment, staring at Geonhak with wide eyes, shocked at his sudden appearance.

He grasped his work satchel tightly in surprise, blinking at Geonhak in confusion, hair messy from running his hands through it throughout the day. “You-“ He blinked again. “What are you doing here? You didn’t say you were coming over.”

Geonhak snorted derisively. “Well, duh. That would ruin the surprise, idiot.”

Another flit of confusion echoed across Seoho’s face, finally glancing down at the hands Geonhak was holding out, a small box sitting in his palm.

His eyes lifted slowly, staring passed him and into the apartment.

It was nothing fancy, but the coffee table had a candle on it and in the kitchen, he saw something bubbling on the stove, cooking away.

On the counter, there was a pretty small bouquet made of wildflower and greenery.

Seoho wet his lips slowly, eyes quietly stunned. “Is this… for my birthday?”

“No, I always like to celebrate a little extra on Tuesdays-“

Seoho smacked his chest with a flat palm, lip twisting in annoyance before it faded all too quickly back into almost wonder. “This is…”

It was their first year out of university… They would have never had time or funds for something like this back then.

“Geonhak, this is… alarmingly romantic for you-“

Geonhak’s hand came up sharply to cover his mouth, making a face at the attempt to soften the moment. “Don’t make it weird,” he begged, removing the hand that Seoho smiled against. “Just… go get changed and shower. The food will be done in a few minutes.”

Seoho looked like he might have another mushy thing to say, and Geonhak was ready to stop that, too. But in the end, he just smiled and hurried to his room to drop off his things.

Geonhak didn’t let him say thank you, either. Not in the warm, open way Seoho always did when he bothered to express genuine gratitude.

He stopped him when it seemed like he was going to get emotional after they ate, thinking back on how much things had changed in a year.

Geonhak didn’t let him say any of that stuff, skin rolling at the thought of having to voice his own feelings that always clung to his throat like they were stuck on molasses.

It was weird. Because it was just a quiet, nice birthday party. It was just something Geonhak had wanted to do… to show Seoho that he could put in the effort. That he wanted nice things for him…

~~~~~~~~~

Geonhak got a text from Hwanwoong just as he was packing up for the day, having successfully made it through the day without an snow-related breakdown.

**Fairy:** _Youngjo said you guys had dinner last night. Wanna come over? Just for some ramen._

He stared at it for a moment, bag slung over his shoulder, standing slowly and making his way out of the building, still watching his phone.

He hesitated for a moment, thumb over the response button… He wouldn’t mind the company, but he was a little cold and tired… But it had been a while since he’d seen them…

He knew this was Hwanwoong’s way of checking up on him, too. Part of him just wanted to respond that he really was fine, and there was no need for dinner.

Instead, he shook his head. There was no harm in going to the dinner. No one was going to ambush him about anything, and it really had been a while since he’d seen them.

Really, Geonhak had missed them, even if it hadn’t been _that_ long, by the standards of adults with jobs and obligations.

Snowflakes fell on his phone screen as he thought over his reply, melting into little water droplets that he tried to wipe off with his jacket, but that just smeared them from the slick leather. Huffing, he pocketed the phone to avoid anything else getting it wet.

He could just respond when he got home. There should be a bus heading across the city towards Hwanwoong’s after six…

Further up on the sidewalk, Geonhak saw the hot chocolate stand once more set up for the winter, mist billowing around from the contrast of hot drink and cold air. It was a cute, family owned cart with good hot chocolate, especially for its price. They had gone there a few times, but not often.

Geonhak shook the thought away.

A woman and child stood at it, ordering for themselves as the child bounced with glee.

Hot chocolate had never been his favorite- a little too sweet… but the day had been hectic enough and his brain was tired enough and his body felt sluggish enough…

Fuck it, it couldn’t hurt.

Keonhee was the one who always bought sweets the moment a sad thought even entered his head, and it seemed to work for him.

He stepped up alongside the mother and child just as they received their drinks, thanking the man brightly in the way that cold weather always made people act.

“Just one small hot chocolate.” Geonhak requested politely when the man asked what he’d like, offering a genuine smile at the jovial response as the man grabbed a paper cup after he paid.

Smiling to himself, he took the opportunity, under the umbrella of the man’s stand, to bring his phone back out, heart a little less heavy after the small, kind interaction as he pulled up his texts to Hwanwoong.

_Sure. Should I bring anything?_

His finger hovered over the Send button, listening to the sound of the cup being filled as another body entered under the protection of the umbrella, shivering, with a gentle laugh from the man.

“Cold, isn’t it?” the man joked. “What can I get you?”

“A medium, please. Extra whipped cream.”

Geonhak frowned, ears itching as he glanced up- both to check if his drink was done and to see…

His phone tumbled from his numb fingers completely of its own volition.

The other person at the stand glanced up at the sound of it striking the snow covered sidewalk, immediately dropping to his knees with a polite laugh.

“It’s a good thing most of these are waterpr-“

He froze.

Geonhak stared, numb and helpless, as Seoho half-stood before him, his phone held back out to him like anyone helping a stranger would.

He was sure the scene could have rivaled that of ancient Greek sculptures.

Seoho stared at him with such open, blatant shock, Geonhak would have once found it hilarious and teased him for it for weeks. He would have punched him and asked if he missed him yet.

He would have done _something_.

Geonhak had never dwelled much on what he would do if he were to meet Seoho again, the idea so abstract and far away that it seemed impossible to wonder about.

He always imagined himself angry, though. Demanding answers he had never been given, yelling everything that he’d been locking away these months… He’d always imagined he’d get a chance to finally get even with him for leaving like he did.

Geonhak was not under the impression that he was perfect, but he’d always believed he’d deserved more than he’d gotten when Seoho walked away.

He wasn’t angry now, and he certainly wasn’t yelling.

They almost stood like two preys, both hiding from some hunter, wondering if either would give the other away.

The small paper cup was placed on the tray of the cart beside Geonhak.

Geonhak grabbed it and ran.

“Ran” was the wrong word, given the stiffness in his legs and the inability to operate outside of robotic muscle memory carrying him away from the cart rapidly without looking back.

He’d only made it a few steps before he heard Seoho say his name, a call back.

Geonhak didn’t stop, only speeding up at the voice. He made it a few more strides away from the hot chocolate cart, the thin paper cup burning his hand as he gripped it too tight-

“Geonhak!”

A hand caught his elbow- not jarring, but firm and guiding, stopping him and turning him.

“Your phone,” Seoho’s voice said firmly, before Geonhak knew whether he was supposed to snap at him or not. He stared at his own phone held in Seoho’s hand, offered out to him.

He looked from the phone to Seoho’s face, finding it an odd sort of peaceful, despite the shock still stained there as he looked at Geonhak- as if they were just two strangers passing in the night, almost melancholy.

He didn’t seem eager to run away, like Geonhak had, but he stared with the undeniable knowledge in his eyes of everything that had happened.

There was no mistaking each other, and there was no denying what had happened the last time they had seen each other.

Here is a list of things that Geonhak should do: take his phone, maybe offer a polite thank you, and walk away.

Instead, he stood there.

It wasn’t his fault. The last time he’d seen Seoho, there had been anger in his eyes and venom on his tongue, hurling things at Geonhak that even a year later, he couldn’t understand.

That’s what hurt: He hadn’t understood.

If Seoho had shouted that he had been insulting and demeaning and horrible to be around, Geonhak could accept that, even if he didn’t know what he was talking about.

But the riddles that Seoho had spoken in never made sense, and Geonhak wasn’t even able to understand what he had _done._

Four years, and somehow Geonhak couldn’t see where it had gone wrong. He’d never thought of himself as being perfect, but Seoho himself had always been the one with a teasing compliment on his tongue that Geonhak was _such_ a good boyfriend.

Maybe Geonhak had been right… and those really were just meant to make him flustered. Maybe there hadn’t really been any meaning behind them.

Had Seoho just been stewing in those fibs, then? Unhappy and discontent, but staying for… some reason? Until he couldn’t take it anymore and left? These were all questions Geonhak had asked himself before, but that he’d forcibly stopped thinking about.

He’d never quite gotten over Seoho, so much as he had forcibly cut the other from his life in a desperate attempt not to spend the rest of his life dwelling on it. Because he could do that.

He could do that… because it was Seoho.

Slowly, Seoho dropped the hand offering his phone when it became clear Geonhak wasn’t going to take it. He probably should. But he didn’t.

Seoho’s expression dropped slightly, not quite exasperation- it was something softer, teasing, even if it was very, very tensed. “Does that mean I get to keep it?” he asked, voice stilted, the voice of someone who wasn’t supposed to make a joke.

Seoho very much did not get to make jokes.

And maybe it was that joking tone that made a flicker of emotion finally break through the numb shock. Geonhak’s jaw tightened at the thought that Seoho would stand here in front of him, clearly understanding the implications of their last meeting…

And then try to joke with him.

He held out a hand sharply, stiffly, but still without saying anything. His expression was not aggressive, but it was blank and cold, like snow.

Seoho used to always make fun of his resting bitch face.

At the lack of reciprocity to his joke, Seoho’s expression fell further, into the face of someone realizing there was a line they might have crossed.

He cleared his throat gently, lips pressed together in a burst of awkwardness as he tried to smile through the clear tension there. Silently, he held the phone back out, passing it over to him gently, hands drawing back to their sides.

Transaction done, they should part ways. Geonhak should finish his tactical retreat.

“Are you really going to pretend nothing happened?” his voice came out of his mouth without consent from his brain.

Seoho’s jaw tightened, hurt, rather than angry as he stared at Geonhak with that… that infuriating look he always used to get in his eyes when things went wrong.

It was the sort of look he got when he shrugged, giving up and asking ‘well, what else can I do?’

That didn’t help the bubble burning through Geonhak’s stomach at all.

~~~~~~~~~

“My mom says you texted her.”

Geonhak glanced up from his lesson plan, actually grateful for the interruption to give his eyes a rest from the screen. “Um… Yeah, I did.”

Seoho glanced from his phone to Geonhak, accusing and suspicious. “For her birthday.”

“… Yeah?”

“How did you know today was her birthday?” he questioned, holding his phone out demandingly to show the texts between him and his mom that Geonhak didn’t bother reading, choosing to look right passed it.

“You told me?” Geonhak said, voice a question, but it was really calling Seoho stupid, a laugh caught in there.

“I did not,” Seoho said firmly, straightening and putting his hands firmly on his hips, lips firm.

“Yeah, you did.”

“When?”

“Months ago,” Geonhak huffed, rolling his eyes. “We were walking to the park, we stopped and got those slushies you wanted, and you brought up her birthday.”

Seoho’s eyes narrowed, clearly thinking back to the conversation described, before his expression flickered in remembrance, and then loud annoyance. “I never told you that, I made a passing comment about it!”

“You still said it,” Geonhak pointed out, crossing his arms with a smirk. “Why are you so mad that I actually listen to you?”

“That’s not listening, that’s remembering weird shit that you weren’t supposed to!”

“Your mom was happy I texted her,” he reminded him firmly. “And she got mad that you didn’t actually tell your _boyfriend_ before this point. I think I’m her favorite, now.”

Seoho sat on him because he’s a piece of shit like that.

Geonhak bit him, but it didn’t do much.

It wasn’t his fault that remembering dates was… Well, it was an easy way to show intent.

~~~~~~~~~

Seoho looked neither hurt, nor unaffected by the comment.

He stood still in front of Geonhak, slightly taken aback by the sudden accusation, but his expression merely flickered in brief surprise before settling into something… settled.

Something calm.

Seoho had not been calm the last time they were together.

He stared at Geonhak with an even gaze, and even past the calm, Geonhak could easily see the apology there. Not necessarily regret, but there was something hidden in his eyes that he was too upset to cypher out.

“Of course, I’m not going to pretend nothing happened,” Seoho said, quiet and cordial and bordering on awkward. “But that doesn’t mean… I can’t be civil and just return your phone like any kind stranger would.”

Kind.

Seoho had not been kind.

“I’m not talking about giving back a phone,” Geonhak said, voice tensed but not aggressive. He was too aware of their public location to start a real argument.

“That’s all I’ve done,” Seoho said quietly, almost placatingly, but he sounded… he almost sounded confused. Conflicted.

And he didn’t know what on earth Seoho would have to feel conflicted over.

“That is not all you’ve done.”

“That’s all I’ve done today,” Seoho said firmly, like a defense. “And that’s all I’ve done in a year.”

“And before that?” Geonhak challenged, because his tongue was loosening the more Seoho spoke, the more their interaction lengthened beyond a common happening-by that he could regale the others with at dinner. He was realizing all the answer he never got.

Seoho’s lips thinned slightly, but his eyes were defensive, not aggressive, as if blocking Geonhak’s verbal blows to keep himself safe.

“Does it matter what I did before that?” he murmured, voice lowering, almost like a retreat but he was still here.

And that… 

That stabbed a flicker of hurt into Geonhak’s chest that he hadn’t been expecting. That made his expression flinch, a physical show of invisible pain that slammed into his chest, dull and blunt, knocking the wind from him even as he stared at Seoho in confused hurt.

“I was never under the impression that you cared,” Geonhak said, voice coming out a little hoarse from the cold…and everything else. “If you did, you wouldn’t have done it the way you did, but I at least thought-“

“I never cared?” Seoho demanded, quiet but forceful, yanking Geonhak’s speech to a halt as he stared at Geonhak as if he were insane. “ _I_ never cared?”

Geonhak couldn’t help but laugh back, the sound forced out by the innocent hurt flitting across Seoho’s eyes.

“You stood there, just like this-“ he snapped, keeping his voice low as he gestured between them sharply- “and yelled things at me that I didn’t understand, and then you just _walked away_.”

Seoho opened his mouth, surely having prepared a defense-

“I thought I would get a chance to actually understand what caused it,” Geonhak broke in without letting him speak, a fist clenched at his side and his phone digging into the palm of the other.

Seoho had already said enough.

“But I never did,” he muttered lowly. “I got a box of my things and a text telling me you weren’t coming back- What the _fuck_ could I have done to deserve that? That you couldn’t even actually tell me what went wrong-”

“Oh, please- Even if you did know what I meant, do you really think you would have changed a thing?” Seoho snapped, voice barely raising above an appropriate level before slamming back down into private conversation. “Would you really have broken your stupid routine to fix anything?”

Geonhak stared, Seoho glaring with an anger that was weaker than a year ago, but with eyes sharp enough to remind Geonhak that he had once made jokes about being lucky Seoho was on their side of friendship because he was quite intimidating when he had reason to be.

“What does that _mean_?” Geonhak demanded, sounding a little helpless, and he hated that, but it was all he had at the moment. “Breaking my routine, asking me back then if I really didn’t know what went wrong, saying that _now_ I wanted to talk- What the hell does all of that _mean_ , Seoho?”

Because he had stood in front of Geonhak, said it was over, that he was done… and he never said why.

“I know we used to joke about it, but I can’t fucking read your mind,” he snapped helplessly. “I never fucking could, Seoho- Why did you suddenly decide to think I could at the most important moment-“

“You seriously never noticed an imbalance?” Seoho snapped, strong and sharp enough for Geonhak to understand that this demand was the crux of everything.

An… imbalance?

Geonhak frowned, more like a glare, but Seoho simply stared back, waiting and demanding.

“An imbalance of what?”

“ _Everything_ ,” Seoho scoffed, arms crossing over his chest- either defensive or chilled. “I put so much fucking effort into making things work, and _you-_ “ He stopped, the word making his lips curl, almost like he might cry, almost like he might scream. “You didn’t.”

For a moment, Geonhak continued to glare stubbornly as the words slowly sank in, staining his skin and dyeing his blood a darker shade, a colder shade.

“I didn’t… try?” he repeated back, voice low like a whisper. A stunned, stinging whisper.

“I can count on one hand the number of times you said you loved me.”

Geonhak swallowed, not out of guilt but out of… a desire to get the bitter taste from his mouth that was coming from the poison in Seoho’s voice, in his glare, in his tense lips that shook slightly.

And Geonhak was faced with two realizations.

One: Seoho was not as detached from their time together as he seemed.

Two: apparently, they had both been living extremely different version of their relationship while it had been going on.

“I tried to be open with you, I tried to talk about things with you, and you just didn’t want to,” he went on, sharp and fierce. “I tried to connect with you more than we had, and you shut me down every time.”

Geonhak… had never thought he had been perfect.

But he’d always known that he’d tried.

He’d tried so damn hard, in every way he knew how. But somehow that hadn’t been enough.

“How long?” he demanded quietly, still holding his fists tightly. “Were you seriously miserable for almost four years, and you never said a word-“

“It wasn’t the whole time,” Seoho huffed, glancing away. “But that last year… I started noticing it more and more, and I just… I can’t sit and put everything into a relationship and get nothing back-“

“I gave everything.”

Seoho fell silent, staring at him with a mixture of scoffing disbelief and tense annoyance.

“I gave everything I knew _how_ to give,” Geonhak defended, not himself but his past self. The one Seoho was accusing. “You knew that I had never done that before- You just said that three of those years were fine, how could you have hit _one_ rough patch and then just _left_?”

“You think I left after one?” he demanded, offended and sharp. “For months, I kept noticing just how much you refused to give me-“

“What else could I have given?” Geonhak snapped, voice raising above an appropriate level, but it wasn’t embarrassment that forced it to quiet. The cold around them suddenly seemed to steam with the rising temperatures inside of them.

Seoho rolled his eyes-

“I gave you more than I’d _ever_ given anyone,” Geonhak snapped, voice twisted with a different kind of pain at the dismissal, as if it was impossible to believe. “I gave you more _trust_ than I ever gave anyone. You were the one who started it, and I did everything I could, and even when it became second nature-“ He stopped, swallowing. “Was it always inadequate? Be honest.”

Was _I_ always inadequate?

“I just said it wasn’t,” Seoho huffed quietly, aloof but not detached. “But we stopped being kids, Geonhak,” he said, hearing his voice like a physical blow. A tack in a piece of paper. A resignation. “You can’t keep being so immature and expect everything to work out.”

“Immature?” he hissed, almost wanting to laugh. “We were both fucking immature-“

“I tried to talk things out,” Seoho snapped defensively. “You weren’t ever interested in hearing what I had to say-“

“How the hell did you think that-“

“Do you know how many times you said you loved me?” Seoho demanded, taking a step forward that made Geonhak stiffen.

He rolled his lips slowly. “Why would I remember that?” he murmured quietly.

“Eight,” Seoho hissed, lips curling angrily, a damning accusation. “In four years, you said it eight times.”

“That was it?” Geonhak demanded, hackles rising to the defense. He didn’t bother trying to claim it was a lie. Seoho had been cruel, but he wasn’t one to start making things up. If he said eight… he would have genuinely believed it was eight.

And the problem… was that Geonhak was aware that words… had never been his strong suit.

“I didn’t say I love you enough, so you walk away?” he accused. “You never said anything-“

“Of course that wasn’t the only thing!” Seoho snapped angrily. “And do you know why I remember that it was eight times?” he demanded, voice muffled in the empty street bathed in snow. “Because I knew you never fucking said it, so I held on to it each time you did-“

“That isn’t fair,” Geonhak pressed, one hand releasing his fist to swipe at the air. “You fucking knew long before we ever got together that I was…”

Scared.

Inexperienced.

Hesitant.

“That I wasn’t someone who could easily say that stuff.”

“I was prepared for that,” Seoho snapped quietly, eyes narrowing. “I wasn’t expecting you to say it every morning with a kiss and a smile- That’s fucking ridiculous. But _eight_ times in _four_ years, Geonhak-“

“You _know_ I never knew how to do that stuff!” Geonhak defended sharply.

“Did you seriously _never_ learn after four years?” Seoho demanded, taking another step forward, Geonhak matching him with a step backwards. “Did it seriously never once become easier, even after all time?” 

“You think time has anything to do with that?” he scoffed, staring at Seoho in disbelief. “You think that’s something you just _grow out of?”_

“I’m saying that I get why it would have been hard to begin with, but did it seriously never get easier? Not even after so long? I thought we were-“ Seoho cut himself off, lips pressing together and angry eyes shimmering.

Geonhak pressed his lips together, too, staring and breathing evenly, deeply.

So he hadn’t said… ‘I love you’ enough.

But he stared at Seoho’s eyes that were angrily blinking back tears and the way his lips trembled with anger that wasn’t quite strong enough to appear.

“It has nothing to do with getting easier,” Geonhak said, realization settling sickening enough in his stomach that he wished Seoho hadn’t always been so easy to read. “You think I didn’t love you enough to say it.”

Seoho’s jaw tensed, the fragility in his eyes hardening with anger. “You’re a fucking idiot-“

“That isn’t how it works,” Geonhak said sharply, but Seoho shook his head roughly.

“You keep thinking this all boils down to one issue!” he snapped. “It doesn’t, Geonhak. It’s everything over the entire time we were together- You never said anything. I was always the one saying things, and you never said _anything_ back.”

Geonhak knew he wasn’t just talking about passing conversations.

But he also wasn’t sure _what_ he was talking about.

He sort of did, in a way. He knew that Seoho had always been the one who was good with words, the one who would say things that Geonhak could never bring himself to. He could talk circles around people, but he was also the one who could say genuinely niceties without getting embarrassed or tongue tied.

Geonhak had never been so fortunate. Words had never been his specialty. Genuine ‘I love you’s or otherwise.

“I would try and tell you things like how much you meant to me,” Seoho hissed angrily. “And you would laugh it off or ignore it completely. You shut me down every time. You treated every serious moment like we were still kids just trying to push off studying for midterms-“

“That’s not what happened!” Geonhak snapped, his heart twisting at the statements. “That was never what that meant-“

“How else was I supposed to take it?” Seoho demanded, accused, yelled. But everything was infinitely quiet. “Every time I tried to open my mouth, to try and articulate everything you meant to me, you shut me down. What the hell did you _think_ that would do?”

“I wasn’t shutting you down,” he pressed, his heart beginning to hurt for how hard it pounded. “I- You know I never-“

“So because you get embarrassed anytime someone tries to be serious, you have to keep me quiet, too?” Seoho demanded. “Everything was always about making you comfortable? Never mind all the times I was waiting for _something_ to tell me I hadn’t been wasting my time, some sort of sign that we weren’t still just kids hanging onto a _bet_ -“

“It wasn’t about a bet even before we graduated!” Geonhak snapped, finally taking his own jarring step forward, his heart feeling like it was being slowly dissolved in pins and needles. “You fucking know that the bet was bullshit-“

“It didn’t feel like it sometimes!” Seoho argued, grief and anger warring. “Sometimes, it felt like you were just sitting here, waiting to get your card punched for being a passing boyfriend-“

“Was that all I was?” Geonhak demanded, because they had had this conversation, long before it fell apart. Geonhak had been so afraid, he’d made them bring it up again and again. “Was that why you stayed? Because I was just _passing_?”

“You asked me so often whether you were fucking it up or not, and I reassured you every fucking time,” Seoho hissed, eyes beginning to shimmer again through the warped pain. “Where the fuck were _my_ reassurances?” 

Seoho…

Geonhak was not foolish enough to think Seoho didn’t need them. Despite always seeming to know what he was doing, looking as if he would walk his own path without ever needing another’s approval… Geonhak knew that he needed those reassurances.

“I… I thought I had given them to you,” Geonhak whispered, thinking back to so many moments that he thought had been enough-

“Name _one thing_ you _ever_ said to me to convince me I meant anything,” Seoho scoffed, blinking and releasing a single, frigid tear down his cheek that he swiped at angrily, like a cat hissing at someone getting too close.

Said.

“Repeat one word you ever told me to reassure me that you weren’t just here because of a stupid bet when we were students.”

Word.

Told.

Geonhak’s lips thinned as he but the inside of his cheek, stomach dropping low and cramping with fear and regrets.

Ah…

“I never said anything,” Geonhak whispered like a gavel coming down.

Seoho’s fists clenched at his side, justified-

“I never said anything to reassure you… and I never told you I loved you,” he whispered, lowering his eyes from Seoho’s anger to the cold, dirty snow at their feet.

He felt like he could be sick into the snow.

“But I…”

_“I love you,” Seoho’s voice lilted over, like it always did._

_Geonhak looked at Seoho who was leaning on the table, grinning and bright eyed. His skin heated as he huffed, turning away and shoving a napkin into his face instead. “You have sauce on your face._

_“I love you.”_

_Geonhak rolled his eyes, passing him a jacket with a hidden smile. “Put it on, it’s getting cold tonight.”_

_“I love you.”_

_Geonhak smiled quietly, the evening quiet enough for him to just shove a pillow beneath Seoho’s head to keep it from bending awkwardly. “Watch the movie. You’re the one who picked it.”_

_“I love you.”_

_Geonhak simply pushed the lunchbox into Seoho’s hand, both of them standing in the waiting room of his work that was only giving him half an hour for lunch these days. “Just eat it before it gets cold. I didn’t put any bell pepper in it, you baby.”_

_“I love you.”_

_Geonhak didn’t move where his arm was slung around Seoho’s shoulders comfortably as they walked, snow falling into their hair as they huddled for warmth and for reasons that had nothing to do with temperature. He held Seoho tighter to ward off any chill that might have wiggled its way between them, silent._

_“I love you.”_

_Geonhak flicked him gently, shouldering him to get him to pay attention to the camera they were taking selfies with in their stupid Christmas sweaters that Seoho demanded that they get, but that Geonhak demanded that they never wear out in public. The picture had been his wallpaper for months._

_“I love you.”_

_Geonhak wrapped the blanket around his shoulders quietly, smirking quietly as he laid Seoho’s body onto the couch when he refused to move to a bed after the movie had put him halfway to sleep. “Just tell me if you get cold during the night.”_

Geonhak stared at Seoho now, wondering how there’s been such a mistranslation. Such a grievous, horrific misalignment of intentions.

“I didn’t think… that I had to.”

~~~~~~~~~

Geonhak had never been one for cuddling much.

Aside from the usual comfortable touched between friends, he wasn’t really used to touching people just for the sake of touching. Their friend group had never had a fear of touching or laying on each other, tangled in limbs and heads resting on whatever body was available as they tried to squeeze everyone onto a single couch.

This was… different. This was a one-on-one intentional movement between the two of them which others weren’t, by rules of propriety, supposed to intrude upon.

Geonhak had been sitting by himself, but Seoho had come in with his bag, tossing it down by the couch before collapsing over Geonhak’s lap with a tired sigh that was usually reserved for the pillows and cushions you pushed your face into to muffle the screams from classes.

Instinctively, he almost shoved him off because that was usual for them, to bicker.

But Seoho relaxed across his lap, turning ever to slightly to curl his arms in and rest his head just above Geonhak’s hip, as if settling in for the night, getting comfortable. Geonhak stared at him, his eyes hidden in Geonhak’s sweatshirt, arm still raised to shove him off, before he lowered it slowly, resting it against Seoho’s back gently, unsure where he was even supposed to put it.

Seoho chuckled against his sweatshirt, not bothering to lift his head from its burrow. He settled further against Geonhak, further releasing the tension of the day. “You’re acting like someone afraid of pets who just had a cat lay in their lap.”

“You’re as annoying as a cat,” he huffed, skin heating with that familiar, inexperienced embarrassment that forced him to swallow inexperience and lay his hand more confidently at the curve of Seoho’s hip.

If there was one thing that would sweep embarrassment away, it was a desire not to be seen as fumbling.

Seoho just laughed to himself, shifting downwards to find a more comfortable position that ended with his head in Geonhak’s lap, but continuing to push his face into the stomach of his sweatshirt.

“You’re gonna start smelling sweat, if you’re not careful,” Geonhak warned him, knowing full well that he’d showered after exercising this morning.

In a split decision of bravery and an attempt to be casual, he used his other hand to pet through Seoho’s hair…. Just because that seemed like the right action.

He felt Seoho pause- not stiffening or tensing, but as if he was making sure he was actually processing the touch correctly. Geonhak didn’t hold his breath, but he was prepared for Seoho to swat his hand away at any moment.

Instead, Seoho settled back into jello as he accepting the touch with surprising contentment.

In all honesty… it was a very different moment than Geonhak was used to them having. No bickering or arguing… everything was quiet. Relaxed. Seoho was quiet, and Geonhak didn’t have anything pressing to say…

He’d never done this with anyone, but when Seoho seemed to enjoy it… Geonhak kept petting his hair gently, even managing to hold back the comment about who was a cat, now.

That was the first quiet moment the two of them shared. The first of those moments that made Geonhak realize that… maybe this was easier than he thought. Because words were hard, regardless of how well he could use them in essays.

Even when Geonhak did manage to force out a few words from the heart, he was left feeling awkward and tight afterwards, waiting in the after-moments for something to be wrong. 

This… This was easier. There were no words, no tightness in his chest…

But the message was conveyed, regardless.

And Seoho looked more comfortable then he ever had while listening to Geonhak trying to force out a complete sentence with the words “feelings” and “genuine.”

Touching… was so much easier than talking. And it seemed like it meant so much more. Something physical as proof, instead of stumbled words that probably didn’t even sound genuine to begin with.

Touch… was better. For Geonhak, too, it was better. It was so much easier.

Touch was genuine and earnest.

~~~~~~~~~

Seoho laughed, hurt and bitter. “You didn’t think you had to,” he repeated back.

“I thought that I _was_ ,” Geonhak corrected, voice coming out quieter, less self-assured. “I thought I was doing enough-“

“How could you have thought that was enough?” Seoho snapped, shoulders tensed and shaking.

“You… never gave me an indication that it wasn’t,” he confessed quietly, the realization of that also settling across his shoulders.

Seoho’s lips thinned.

“The entire time we were together, you always told me… that you understood what I meant.”

_“I love you.”_

_Geonhak stared at the singular rose Seoho had bought for their anniversary, holding it out with a white ribbon tied around it, the sight of it- simple, but showing thought- made Geonhak’s chest tighten at the unexpected surge of emotions rushing through his veins._

_“I…”_

_It came out weak and breathy, as if something was physically sucking out his ability to breathe and speak. Like it always did. Every time he tried to say it-_

_Seoho simply laughed, the way he always did when Geonhak did something stupid to embarrass himself. He whacked the rose against Geonhak’s nose, hard enough to make him sputter-_

_Seoho merely smiled, warmer and less teasing. “Yeah, I know,” he said, the acknowledgement making Geonhak’s entire blood system come to a screeching halt._

“You said you understood,” he murmured, feeling his voice weaken again.

Seoho’s jaw flexed slowly, the sight of someone backed into a corner but unwilling to go down without a fight. “I did,” he said stiffly. “But there’s understanding and then there’s… taking advantage of that by never even trying-“ He swallowed. “Even if it was hard, you couldn’t find it worth it to try, even every now and then-“

“I didn’t love you any less just because it was hard to say,” Geonhak said, voice hoarse as it tightened, his veins feeling tangled and gnarled. “Loving you longer doesn’t make it easier to say, Seoho, that’s not how it works-“

“That’s not how _you_ work,” he muttered bitterly. “Because you’ll die if you say one embarrassing thing.”

“That’s not-“ Geonhak cut himself off, biting his tongue to stop an escalation of the night.

His hands were numb and he didn’t know if the snow had anything to do with it.

“I thought I was saying it,” he whispered, watching Seoho stiffen, ready to defend before he’d even heard what he was saying.

Geonhak imagined anger when facing Seoho again, and there was definitely anger in abundance… but he couldn’t bring himself to tap into any of it. Not when he was staring at Seoho who had misunderstood everything, and staring at himself who had… who had messed it all up.

“I thought I was saying it,” he repeated quietly, stiff. “I thought I was doing enough- I tried to say it every day, in some way, like you did… I was shit with words, but I _tried_ to say it, Seoho. I thought I _was_ saying it-“ 

He’d thought he’d done enough.

Apparently, he wasn’t enough.


	2. What is Left for Me (Us) to Fix?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this little fic!!!   
> Thank you so much to everyone who commented and read and kudosed the first chapter! It literally means so much!!!   
> I hope you enjoy this second installment and hopefully it’ll answer some questions about everything~ 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy! Please let me know what you think!   
> -SS

Geonhak had once hated the snow.

Then someone made it worthwhile.

And then they left.

And he hated the ice that clung to his skin and his heart, once again.

And now he stood in the snow again, a familiar pain lacing his chest as he faced that one person who had once made it worth it.

And he hated the snow more than he ever had.

~~~~~~~~

Seoho was sitting on the couch.

This wasn’t uncommon.

The absence of any sort of work or review material was, however.

There were no papers or binders scattered across Geonhak’s table, which was practically unheard of because Seoho always brought work home with him. He always had something to go over, even if only to kill time until Geonhak got home.

There was nothing this time.

No phone held up to his face. No TV playing some lovey drama that Seoho was weirdly into. Not even a piece of scrap paper to fiddle with while he waited.

Geonhak paused where he stood in the doorway, closing the door quietly as he took in the scene.

Seoho sat upright on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket from his head to his feet, curled up into a ball, as if trying to fit in as little space as possible. His head was bowed, but Geonhak still saw the blank eyes staring off, tired and heavy in a way that he didn’t see often.

But he had seen it before.

It was cold outside, so the blanket wasn’t uncommon, but it wasn’t cold enough for him to bundle himself so thoroughly… in Geonhak’s blanket, no less, instead of his guest blanket piled on the other side of the couch.

Sometimes… people just got sad.

There was no rhyme or reason for it, but sometimes the days just got a little too long, you got a little too tired, you had one too many things on your mind… and you were sad. Geonhak never worried about it beyond wondering what had caused it- be it work or some personal aspect that Geonhak hadn’t picked up on.

He felt he was good at picking up on those, though. And Seoho certainly always complained that he was too good at reading him, that Seoho could never keep a secret from him for long, and that infuriated him.

Geonhak was always grateful for the one-step-ahead ability. It made surprising Seoho much easier, watching his face frown and then soften when he realized that Geonhak had actually gotten the soft sweatshirt he had jokingly mentioned wanting- but secretly had been overly fond of.

Seoho always told him to stop buying him random stuff, but Geonhak watched the way his eyes were drift to whatever gift, snack, drink that Geonhak had picked up, warm and grateful and a smile tugging at his lips.

How could Geonhak ever stop, then?

Sometimes, though, this power was used to assess what kind of weight Seoho was carrying.

Geonhak sat his satchel by the door quietly. Whether Seoho heard him or not, he didn’t move. It was one of the few times Geonhak was not greeted with a smile or acknowledgement.

Seoho curled up tighter, burying his face in his blanketed knees, the lump of thick covers wrapping around where his knees might be. With a quick once over, Geonhak guesses that the reason for his state was probably being overly tired or something going wrong at work. Nothing too concerning.

But Geonhak wished he had known- he would have picked something up.

Instead, he swallowed the gentle concern in the back of his throat as he crossed the living room floor, not bothering to hide his footsteps at all. He was much too close before Seoho looked up, jerking as if he really hadn’t realized Geonhak had come in. 

Gently bloodshot eyes stared up at him- impossible to distinguish tears or just tiredness, but it didn’t really matter. By the time Seoho realized he was right there, Geonhak was already opening the blankets up, flopping unceremoniously on the couch and wrapping the blankets around himself as well.

“Hey,” Seoho protested at his nest being disturbed, but it was too quiet and subdued to have any real heat- a reflex, rather than a real reaction. The lack of physical reaction only lent to the correctness of this course of action.

With the two of them, it was hard to bundle as tightly, so Geonhak reached over and grabbed the guest blanket too as he pressed against Seoho’s side tightly, pressing him against the other end of the couch.

“Hush,” he said before Seoho could protest again, laying the second blanket across them. “It’s cold. Deal with it.”

He slung both arms around Seoho in a hug, no doubt too chilly for the other to want him touching him after his walk home from work.

Instead of pushing him away and screeching about the cold, Seoho was quiet, his expression hidden by the mound of blankets around them. And then, slowly and intentionally, Seoho’s shoulders dropped as he sighed- a farce and lie, not a true show of annoyance.

Seoho settled in like a puddle of water leaking into a cup, taking the shape of its container- in this case, the ridges and gaps of being between Geonhak and the couch’s arm. There was no protest of being squished or of Geonhak being cold or of scolding him for ruining his bundle.

Seoho merely sighed quietly, falling against Geonhak silently, letting him wrap arms around him with another firm statement that this was only happening because it was cold, and if Seoho had an issue with it, he could suck it up.

Seoho laughed quietly, subdued but genuine, and made no protest, simply sinking into the bundle of blankets and Geonhak, his head coming and resting on the curve of Geonhak’s shoulder before slowly slipping down until Seoho’s ear rested over his heart.

Seoho was silent and that was the largest indicator that it was needed.

If Seoho had given in a little too quick without a little spat, Geonhak didn’t mention it.

And if, after a moment, he held onto Geonhak just a little too tight for their usual proximity, Geonhak didn’t mention that, either.

If Seoho merely shook his head with a quiet mumble of negation when Geonhak asked if he wanted him to order them food, Geonhak listened.

He could offer sympathy words, he could ask what had happened, but Seoho didn’t like talking about that stuff while it was happening. He preferred to wait until the storm had passed to talk about the damage it caused.

In the moment… this was all Geonhak could offer. He wouldn’t burden Seoho with stuttered and awkward reassurances that it was okay- Seoho would probably only laugh at his pitiful attempts at verbal sympathy.

But he was grateful for that, because his words were too thick and stumbling to ever truly offer comfort. It was so much easier to just be silent and offer a silent, solid support for whenever Seoho got too tired of sitting up on his own.

It was more effective. Seoho was someone who was too smart to really ever need someone to tell him it was okay. He was too self aware.

This… this was good. Giving him a place to get away, a place to lay, a physical presence as reassurance… this was a better gift than Geonhak’s words would ever give.

Geonhak would never be good enough with words to offer useful comfort or affection or reassurance. They both knew that.

Seoho tucked his head a little further into Geonhak’s chest, but his posture was looser, more relaxed, content- instead of the stiff ball from earlier.

That was his signal that it was working okay, a breath of relief in Geonhak’s chest.

This… This really was all he could give, wasn’t it?

~~~~~~~~~~

“I thought I was saying it a million different ways- I thought you were sick of hearing it,” Geonhak confessed weakly.

The snow kept brushing his face, his hands, his hair- pinpricks of cold that were doing nothing to help the shaking that was beginning to set into his muscles the more he stood here.

His chest was heavy with defenses, guilt, and regret.

And Seoho stood across from him, an attacker, a victim… and another regret.

“I never  _ heard _ you say it,” Seoho responded sharply. 

“I did what I could to show you,” Geonhak fought, eyes sharpening ever so slightly in defense.

He wished Seoho would once again understand- or to maybe admit that he never had.

Maybe… maybe he hadn’t done what Seoho needed. Maybe he should have said more, maybe he should have changed a million things.

Maybe they had miscommunicated, but… but Geonhak had never treated their relationship lightly. He had never treated it as a burden and he had never done anything in those four years carelessly.

He was stupid and emotionally stunted from years of sticking to himself, of seeing people burned and being burned himself- so he’d done everything in his power to make sure that even if Seoho couldn’t hear it… even if Seoho said it was okay that he didn’t say it, he never wanted Seoho to doubt that Geonhak meant it.

He never wanted Seoho to doubt him.

He meant every unspoken word. Every action that Seoho had claimed to understand.

Maybe Seoho had misinterpreted the action as affection, rather than the deeper emotions that they were. Maybe he thought they were merely a cute addition, instead of everything Geonhak could never bring himself to say with enough poise to be worth it.

But on his grave, Geonhak would swear that he had given his all.

“Maybe I could say it,” Geonhak said, not letting the bitterness at the back of his throat come forward. “Maybe I was stupid for not just biting the bullet and saying it, even if it was hard-“

The bitterness died, and Geonhak swallowed the guilt that built in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he managed weakly. “I’m sorry that it wasn’t obvious enough… Maybe I should have forced it, just sometimes… Maybe it was selfish of me not to try harder to say it all.”

Seoho’s jaw tightened at his apology, fists tightening like he was about to shout something, something clawing at his mouth, begging to be let loose.

Geonhak spoke over whatever he was trying to hurt him with.

“But I thought that you deserved better than that.”

Geonhak watched, like a movie reel getting caught- a jumbled crash of emotions across Seoho’s face, like cars losing control and slamming into each other in an attempt to be first. Things like confusion and anger and annoyance and questions-

“You… I thought that it would…” He swallowed thickly. “Anything I ever said to you, anything I tried to articulate, every time… it sounded like a kindergartener trying to recite Shakespeare.”

And Geonhak knew. He had taught several.

He knew he never had the right words.

Seoho knew it too- he had laughed with the rest of their friends when Geonhak’s attempts are affection came out- “Uh, well… you guys… thanks,” while they all knew they meant more than the world to him.

His friends and Seoho meant everything to him.

“I… I didn’t want to try and say stuff that was only going to sound stupid anyway,” he pressed. “If I was going to tell you these things, I wanted you to be able to believe it- I wanted to make sure you knew I was serious and words never came out that way, they were always a mess-“

Geonhak’s voice caught, the memories of everytime he tried to speak… everytime he tried to say something that even attempted to encapsulate everything Seoho meant to him…

“I didn’t… I never wanted to give you those half-baked attempts. I wanted to be able to match everything you’d ever told me, and I knew I never could,” he whispered, feeling helpless. “So I didn’t say anything, especially when you said that you… you understood. You said it was okay that it was hard to say-“

“But you would  _ never _ say anything-“

“I thought I made it clear enough with the things I did,” Geonhak fought, raising a shield against attack. Seoho’s expression stared back at him, colder than the snow. “I should have said it more, maybe, but to me… to me, I never fucking  _ stopped _ saying it, Seoho.”

Seoho stared at him, anger temporarily overwhelmed by glassy eyes and trembling lips.

Geonhak felt his own eyes sting for the first time as the weight of everything settled on his chest like a weight he couldn’t breathe around.

“I remembered every important date, I remembered every phase of crazy drinks that you tried because you hated coffee that much, I remembered every dumb childhood story you told. I never forgot any of those details because they were  _ part _ of you, and I fucking  _ cared _ about that, Seoho.”

He’d never done it for recognition, he’d done it for understanding.

He wasn’t looking to brag, he was looking for Seoho to understand that he had  _ cared. _

“And it wasn’t  _ hard _ to care, Seoho,” he pressed, a little too desperate. “I never needed to  _ force _ myself to care- it was second nature to pay attention to you like that, to remember those things for you-“

It was second nature to just listen and remember all the things Seoho let drop… It was like walking down a forest path and picking up interesting leaves and flowers and stones.

Geonhak had gathered those tiny items with intent, without a second thought.

He’d held onto them.

And Seoho had told him he was crazy for doing so, but it had only made Geonhak believe that this was enough. This was something special he could do.

“Everything I fucking did, I thought you could tell that it wasn’t… it wasn’t just to be nice, it wasn’t that doing this sort of stuff was an attempt to show off, it was…” He stared, wetting his lips carefully. “It was that I was better at showing than I ever would be at telling.” 

Even now, as Geonhak tried to defend himself… he couldn’t find the right words to describe what he had thought he had been doing, the things he had thought Seoho knew. It should be so easy.

_ I couldn’t say I loved you because I wanted you to actually be able to believe me, so I didn’t say anything and just tried to show you. _

Those words stuck more viciously than anything ever had, clinging to his throat like a needle being pressed in.

But even here… like a year ago… Seoho didn’t look like it mattered. It didn’t look like reasons and explanations mattered.

“You could have said  _ something _ ,” Seoho hissed, hinting towards desperate, voice weakening out of anger. “Instead of leaving me to wonder if you were just trying to deflect, if you even felt the same-“

“You could have  _ talked _ to me about it, instead of looking at everything on your own and deciding it wasn’t enough,” Geonhak snapped, sharper and harsher than he intended.

He regretted them, too. He regretted all the harsh words.

Seoho didn’t look like he’d been slapped, but it was a near thing.

“Maybe I couldn’t find the words to be serious about it,” Geonhak said sharply, voice raising ever so slightly. “But I would have talked with you about the problems without a fucking issue- I was emotionally stunted, not a fucking  _ asshole _ , Seoho!”

Seoho’s lips thinned, pale skin reddened by emotion and temperature.

That stung.

The thought that Seoho had someone made himself judge, jury, and executioner. He had looked at their situation, read it on his own, and left without ever letting Geonhak say a word.

_ “Oh,  _ now _ you want to talk? _

Was that it? That Seoho had convinced himself that Geonhak hadn’t cared… because he couldn’t find the words?

“Maybe I interrupted you from talking about serious stuff,” Geonhak admitted, the words tasting like ash on his tongue. “But I never forced you not to say anything,” he hissed. “We argued all the fucking time. We never gave a shit about if the other person wanted to hear it- How could this be the  _ one _ thing you were suddenly afraid to talk to me about?”

They’d been together for four years, but they’d known each other even longer.

“You never gave me a reason to believe I should bother saying something,” Seoho muttered, anger flickering again- 

“Never?” Geonhak demanded, open and hurt because he knew that was a lie. “Never, in four years, did you ever have an inkling that you could talk to me? That I would care if you told me that I was fucking it up-“

“Can you stop acting like you didn’t make it fucking hard?” Seoho snapped, shifting forward. “You never wanted to talk about anything serious, how was I supposed to even approach you about it?”

“We were friends for years before we ever started dating,” Geonhak pressed. “We bitched at each other over every little thing- You would nitpick everything, even about how I ate my rice-“

At one time… the memory of that extensive argument would have made him laugh. They had resolved not to speak to each other for the rest of their lives, but by the end of it, they were back to wrestling on the ground over something else.

Now, it just tasted bitter.

“I thought everything was fine,” Geonhak fought, harsh and hollow. “If I had thought something was wrong, I would have talked about it, Seoho, but you didn’t let me know something was  _ wrong _ .” 

Up until the very moment Seoho walked away… Geonhak had thought things were okay. That had been his greatest confusion.

“Would you have actually changed anything?” Seoho muttered, shaking his head slowly-

“ _ Yes _ !” Geonhak snapped, the urge to reach out and strangle him for being so stupid and annoying resurfacing for the first time in… a year. “Fucking- Yes, Seoho, I would have fucking talked to you about it!”

Seoho’s expression flickered once more, things erasing and creating rapidly-

“I was so ready to talk things out the moment I realized something was wrong, but all you did was tell me it was my fault and then walked away! And I was so ready to talk because I finally knew there  _ was _ something wrong!”

The anger flickered away, clearing into a blank canvas of hurt.

“But I didn’t know what I  _ did _ !”

Seoho swallowed, lips thin and trembling.

“You just walked away, and now you’re here telling me all the things I did wrong when you  _ told me _ they were okay!”

The harsh stiffness of his eyes started to crumble.

“You never even gave me a  _ chance _ .”

Another tear dripped down Seoho’s cheek, and Geonhak felt his own burning, hot in a stinging contrast to the frigid air that had turned all his skin numb.

Somehow, even with all the answers, it still didn’t make sense.

“Maybe I could have been better,” he hissed, weaker, hating the way his voice shook. “But I did not fucking deserve the way you walked away like that.”

The snow and person in front of him blurred are hot tears gathered painfully.

“You knew I was trying. You knew that from the beginning, I put my  _ everything _ into us.” 

Stinging saltwater burned down the ice of his cheek.

“You knew that I fucking trusted you to be different than every fear you told me I was stupid to have-“

He blinked hard, not even able to clear his vision before more replaced the ones that fell.

“And guess what?” he hissed, bitter and vicious and hurt now that he couldn’t see Seoho. “All you did was prove that I was fucking right all along.”

The words even caused Geonhak to flinch- carrying an intent to hurt he’d been missing their entire argument.

The words didn’t taste true on his tongue. They tasted like a lie because even with everything that ended them… Seoho had still been different than any fear Geonhak had. He  _ had _ been different. 

He flinched and he regretted the words because he didn’t want to hurt, he wanted…

He wasn’t sure where he wanted this to end.

But another round of heartbreak for both of them seemed inevitable.

Their relationship… was a tangled mess now.

All relationships were… were a constant game of struggling to please each other… where the other party could terminate it all without a second thought.

Geonhak had played the game. And he’d even thought that maybe it wasn’t a game, maybe it was… just something you would want to do, rather then be required to do.

He’d convinced himself that Seoho had been right, that relationships weren’t just chains that held you to certain behavior to win continued favor.

And yet, in the end, all Seoho had done was end it all without a single reason told, and Geonhak was left with a larger part of his chest missing than he’d ever been prepared for.

Geonhak didn’t even realize he was walking away until he nearly slipped on the ice formed from the compacted snow people had walked on, stumbling but righting himself quickly and continuing on without looking back at Seoho.

The other didn’t call back out to him.

And Geonhak didn’t stop, this time.

He made it all the way to his apartment, climbing the stairs, when his phone rang- loud and jarring enough to make him freeze, breathing heavily from rushing through the icy air, piercing his lungs.

He stopped in the middle of the stairs, staring at his phone through blurred vision and shuddering breaths and shaking hands.

Hwanwoong’s name lit up his screen with a dumb picture they’d taken at a carnival during the summer.

Geonhak almost denied the call. He almost retreated so far away, he might have been safe from it all- the tender wound that had never truly healed and the fresh ones that had been added with every answer he’d finally been given.

Geonhak was not strong enough to shoulder it all on his own.

He answered Hwanwoong’s call, lifting it shakily to his ear, only hearing the other get out a- “What took you so-“ before the other cut himself off, listening to the shaking, uneven breaths filtering through the speaker that Geonhak couldn’t be bothered to stem.

“Geonhak?” Hwanwoong’s voice filtered through again, quiet with concern and confusion. “Are you… Are you okay? Are you crying right now?”

Geonhak took a breath sharp enough to hurt, squeezing his eyes shut to stop more stupid tears from falling.

“I ran into him today,” he croaked, trembling and stupidly upset.

He vaguely heard Hwanwoong mention something about heading his way, but it echoed horrendously in his spinning head.

He shut his eyes tighter, but it did nothing to stop anything, much less stem any amount of pain welling through his chest.

He climbed the rest of the stairs and sat on the couch, fingers through his hair and bent over his knees, the tears ebbing and flowing with every passing minute as he managed to calm down before losing it all again.

Seoho had told him he understood.

When had that stopped being true?

Had they really… really somehow been far enough apart that Seoho couldn’t talk to him about it?

When had they ever… ever in their lives ever been so far apart?

Had Geonhak ever successfully conveyed that the affections were welcomed but difficult to process?

Had… had he really become unapproachable to Seoho, in the end? Had he somehow missed it all?

Hwanwoong arrived barely an hour later, after Geonhak’s tears had run out, with Youngjo- the two of them living nearest to him. He wondered if the others were on their way, or if this whole ordeal might just become a long message in their group chat.

Geonhak wasn’t crying anymore when they arrived, no longer in hysterics from the adrenaline and suddenness of everything that had happened.

Instead, he stared up at them… and tried to think of something to say as he blinked raw, red eyes slowly.

“Will you tell us what happened?” Youngjo asked as Hwanwoong unpacked a convenience store bag they’d somehow had time to fill with things. They all sat on the couch, and Geonhak stared at his feet, the chill to his skin long since leeched out by the heater.

But somehow, he still felt like shivering.

“He told me why he left,” Geonhak muttered, gentle and heavy and suffocating. “Finally.”

Geonhak preferred the pain of not knowing.

He preferred to think that there had been some great wrong he’d accidentally committed… instead of Seoho simply deciding that the way Geonhak loved… wasn’t good enough. 

~~~~~~~~~

In a rare change of pace, Geonhak was laying across Seoho.

There was a drama playing on the TV as background noise while he scrolled through his phone lazily on a rare day when neither of them had work and were both awake enough to actually spend time together, instead of caching up on sleep.

Even if that time together was nothing more than laying on top of each other, no tension present to force them to speak aside from a gentle laugh as he they showed funny pictures from their phones.

There was a heavy blanket around them- mostly on Seoho because he was demanding like that, but the apartment was warm enough that it didn’t matter, aside from the occasional draft that would flicker across him.

It was warm, and it was comfortable.

A reminder that… maybe Geonhak had been wrong. Maybe something like this was possible.

He paused, feeling Seoho’s fingers resting in his hair, even if they weren’t moving beyond twisting little bundles of hair around his finger and letting it fall open. It was still a quiet, non-explicit touch that was another point of warmth along his already content body.

Seoho laughed about something- a quiet, warm chuckle of amusement that vibrated his chest, traveling through Geonhak slowly, the sound wrapping around them and filtering out into the air, settling like dust around them.

Geonhak was… happy. Not an explosive, bursting warmth like he was used to around Seoho, a product of too much teasing and laughing.

It was… deeper than that. Warm and reaching in his chest in a way that… he’d never thought anything ever could, much less a relationship he thought would only ever be flimsy and stuttered.

Geonhak was comfortable here. And that was already achieving the impossible.

But even so… he lowered his phone to rest at his side, staring at Seoho’s hand that absently slid from his hair to rest more comfortable on his chest. Even so… there was still so much that could go wrong.

“Seoho.”

There was a noncommittal hum that came, fingers drumming on his chest to show he was listening, even if he knew Seoho was still scrolling his phone.

Geonhak took a slow breath, sounding like a sigh rather than a noise of distress. And there was no distress… there was only a that familiar, gentle probing in the back of his mind- the same probing that he’d let rule his mind for so many years, the one that he’d finally beaten back with experience and trust.

“You would tell me… if I messed something up, right?” he questioned, slow and quiet and trying not to let it sound like he was as nervous as he was.

There was a moment of silence to follow, but Seoho’s hand went still, as if he was thinking. “Like, if you broke something in the apartment?” he questioned, bemused and making Geonhak want to scoff and roll his eyes and hit his head back against his crotch for being a smartass.

But, instead, he merely twisted his lips in distaste. “No, I mean like…”

He paused, searching for words that paralyzed his voice and stuck to the sides of his throat. He knew the words, but finding them… reciting them in a way that wouldn’t sound idiotic…

It was always so hard.

He cleared his throat like a rug being beaten free of dust. “Like, if I was… if I was a shitty boyfriend,” he decided, words tumbling out a bit too quick not to show the anxiety hidden there, even as he reused words that weren’t even his creation.

There was another moment of pause, this one colored surprise as Seoho shifted ever so slightly, like he was looking down at Geonhak, but he was staring pointedly at the opposite wall. Seoho’s hand lifted for a moment, but it settled back against his chest.

“Yeah, of course,” Seoho said, calm and serious, even though his voice was light enough not to become a weight on Geonhak’s chest.

Seoho was good at speaking and not turning it into a weight.

Not like Geonhak, whose words always came out like stones handed over until they got too heavy to hold in his chest or to give away. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” Seoho chuckled, patting his chest pointedly. “I always said I would, didn’t I? You think I’d ever spare your feelings if you were being an asshole?”

No… Geonhak didn’t think that. Geonhak was counting on that, was hoping for that… Because he didn’t know…

He didn’t know how to be a good boyfriend, he just knew how he wanted to act with Seoho, and he just had to hope that that was good enough.

The relief in his chest came with the knowledge that so far… so far, it was good enough. Seoho was happy and was so he, and they were two years deep- not just college kids messing with a bet that was long forgotten.

There was depth to this now. A depth Geonhak hadn’t ever believed he could actually reach without burning himself.

Maybe relationships were just a prison, but Seoho wasn’t. Maybe it was supposed to be jumping through hoops to please someone, but that wasn’t what theirs was.

“Am I ever not being an asshole?” he questioned, tilting his head back with a grin, chest alleviated and light.

Seoho huffed, flopping forward and nearly smothering Geonhak in the bundle of blankets around them.

There was a different kind of laughter to their antics then when they were younger. Geonhak didn’t know what exactly was different…

Well, no, he knew exactly what changed. A relationship he once thought would be mother more than something to pass the time… was now not only a focal point, but a highlight of his life.

But words were hard.

Instead he let Seoho try to kill him with a hug and he didn’t say a word about it, holding onto his arms without really trying to move him away.

~~~~~~~~

Geonhak woke up to an empty apartment and several text messages lighting up his screen that he stared blearily at, eyes raw and aching.

Youngjo and Hwanwoong had left sometime before midnight, despite Geonhak offering them to stay over since the hour was pretty late, but they agreed that Geonhak needed his own time.

His own time turned out to be laying in bed and passing out from the emotional exhaustion that laid over him like a weighted blanket, pinning him down for sleep to take.

He woke up to messages from each of his friends, after having given the others the go-ahead to tell what had happened. It wasn’t like he was ashamed, or that it was a secret. They all knew Seoho a long time before they started dating, and they knew him afterwards.

That had been Geonhak’s greatest fear, after Seoho walked away, that the others would be forced to pick sides, to choose one of their closest friends to stand by… Geonhak didn’t want to be the reason that happened.

Because relationships were stupid and even when they were only supposed to ruin the lives of two people, they always dragged more and more down with them when they inevitably fell apart-

But Seoho… had backed away. Any messages sent, asking what had happened, asking to meet up, asking if he was okay… they were met with silence or simple messages saying he was fine but he was done.

As far as Geonhak knew, they had never met up with Seoho in person in the year since they stopped seeing each other, even though an occasional text might still be sent- no longer asking what happened, but asking if he was okay.

At the very least, Geonhak used to comfort himself, they hadn’t been forced to choose sides.

Geonhak washed his face with icy morning water, letting it wake him up as he stared in the mirror, poking his face until he was content at how unnoticeable his earlier tears had become. In the aftermath of the emotional drain, he felt stupid for getting so worked up about it.

He knew he’d never moved on from Seoho, he’d only buried him away, but still… he should have walked away. It would have saved him so much heartbreak. It would have spared him the knowledge that their break hadn’t occurred from a mistake on his part… but on an inadequacy.

There were layers and layers of reasons that Seoho believed they should break up over, and Geonhak was drowning trying to see them all, trying to hear the accusations and see if they fit into his own puzzle, or if they were misshapen.

So far… he could believe Seoho’s reasoning. Seoho wanted a verbal reassurance that Geonhak had never been able to and never thought to give. Seoho had never said anything, but Geonhak also hadn’t asked.

For the first time, he felt a flicker of relief at the thought of a shared blame. Maybe he could have done more… but maybe they both could have.

Seoho could have said something, but Geonhak could have done more than accept that just because they were happy, there was nothing wrong. He wondered how long Seoho had hidden that away… He said it wasn’t the whole time, but… surely, if the issue was with how Geonhak had chosen to show his emotions… there must have been an issue since the beginning. Even just a miniscule one.

A seed, planted at the very beginning, that had slowly taken root and grown.

Had Seoho only said it was okay, that he understood, because he thought Geonhak would eventually grow out of it?

He walked quickly through the snow, nearly tripping several times, but it got his blood flowing and that helped to clear his head, like exercise always did.

_ Seoho was sitting on his feet as he did sit ups, chin resting on Geonhak’s knees and grinning like a child watching an amusing fish in a tank. _

_ He wasn’t helping to anchor his feet at all, but Geonhak didn’t tell him to move. _

_ Not even when Seoho kept trying to kiss him to distract him, even if he got a double work out from trying to dodge the attempts that impaired his movement more with each passing minute of Seoho realizing this was his new favorite game. _

_ Geonhak grinned, finally accepted a kiss, and didn’t say a word. _

Work was a welcome distraction, even if his mind kept wandering- not to Seoho, but into a dull blankness that was relieving, but inconvenient while trying to compose emails about lesson plans.

By the time he left, he was so tired, he could have slept at his desk, but he was determined to go home, eat proper food, and go to bed early (at the advice of 3 of the 17 text messages he had received this morning, all of them holding varying degrees of comfort, offers, and advice).

Geonhak made it all the way passed that hot chocolate stand and to the final block before his apartment building before his phone pinged with a message.

It wasn’t snowing, though it had piled up on the ground for him to kick through with his boots, but Geonhak’s fingers were too cold and numb for him to bother with his phone, making it home before even thinking about bringing it out of its little cave of warmth from his pockets.

He had shed his layers, changed clothes, and started boiling ramen for dinner before he pulled his phone from his pocket to see which of them was following up to make sure he hadn’t had another breakdown at work-

The text was from a number not saved in his phone, but it was one he had memorized from long, long ago.

Seoho’s number had been deleted from his phone, but Geonhak still remembered it to this day.

**Unknown:** _ Hey, it’s Seoho. _

As if Geonhak could ever forget.

**Unknown:** _ You’ll probably want to block my number entirely, but I figured I’d ask if you wanted to meet up _

**Unknown:** _ No fighting or anything… I just wanted to know if you wanted to talk. _

**Unknown:** _ Actually talk. Not fighting. I should have been calmer about it today.  _

The phrasing was awkward and stilted, but Geonhak stared at it, not sure if he should cry again or throw his phone.

Instead, he set his lips in a hard line, half of him saying to block him and finally cut him off entirely, and the other half saying that even their last conversation wasn’t the closure Geonhak wanted, especially with some of the accusations against him.

He was too tired to fight, but apparently Seoho didn’t want to fight.

Had either of them ever been able to talk without it devolving into some kind of argument, stupid or otherwise? Once, that thought had made Geonhak laugh.

If you wanted to talk…

Yes. Now that Geonhak knew… he wanted to talk.

Geonhak’s hands were unsteady, but they didn’t shake as he typed back.

_ Who told you to text me? _

The message might be read as aggressive, but they both knew that wasn’t the case.

The response came only seconds later, making him wonder if Seoho was staring at his phone, waiting for an answer. Seoho never answered that quickly.

**Unknown:** _ Youngjo. _

Geonhak wanted to laugh, roll his eyes, and start crying again. Youngjo would have never crossed any lines or boundaries, but the thought that he’d contacted Seoho again… he might have scolded him, or maybe he was telling Seoho to finish what he started by spitting more accusations.

Youngjo was the kindest person in the world, but you didn’t want to be the one to hurt someone he cared for. Even if Seoho still technically fell into that category, too. Geonhak knew the older just wanted everything to be okay again.

But what would meeting up do? It wouldn’t fix anything, it would only explain it. And hadn’t Geonhak decided that it was better not to know?

It was better. Wasn’t it?

His phone dinged again, making him jump.

**Unknown:** _ You don’t have to. You don’t owe me anything. I just thought that since our last conversation turned into an argument, it might be better to give a chance to be calm about it. _

Seoho clearly didn’t understand the scars his departure had left, if he thought Geonhak could ever be calm about this, internally.

There were so many things he wanted to shoot back, emboldened by the distance and control of written messages. But there was too much, the words clogging his fingers and brain like too much water trying to fit through a pipe.

Meeting up with Seoho was only going to end up in a fight, at worst, and even deeper pain, at best.

But… Geonhak had always thought he’d done so well. There was a part of him- larger than the part afraid of being hurt- that just wanted to know when he’d started failing so badly. That innate, human desire to understand what people thought of you, especially when they hated you.

Given Seoho’s expressions in reaction to Geonhak’s explanations of himself… maybe the two of them didn’t quite understand each other like they thought.

But now that he had the chance… Geonhak wanted to talk.

His throat was dry as his fingers moved over the keyboard.

_ We can meet, if you want. I have work until 6:30 weekdays. _

That schedule hadn’t changed since last year.

Once again, Seoho texted back way too quick to not be watching his phone.

**Unknown:** _ Tomorrow at the old coffee shop? After you get off work? _

The thought of going back to that coffee shop together made him want to throw up, but it was probably better than standing out in the snow again, where his body felt too hot against the icy air pressing down on him.

It was both neutral and shared ground.

_ Sure. _

Tomorrow wasn’t a lot of time. But Geonhak wasn’t looking to prepare anything. If anything, he wanted it over quickly. He was tired of holding on.

Maybe…

Hopefully… he would be able to actually move on after this.

Not into another relationship- no, that ship had sailed.

But maybe on from the scars that were still so deeply and deliberately left in his chest, that aligned with every harsh word and accusation hurled at him- both old and new.

Geonhak wondered if Seoho knew that each word cut.

He must. He knew everything Geonhak had been afraid of- had heard all of it in quiet whispered and faux-joking mutterings. He’d assuaged all those fears and even murmured a few of his own in return…

There was no way Seoho didn’t understand the consequences of each and every word he wielded like a weapon against Geonhak, who held his own words in his chest- a sheathed sword he couldn’t draw.

And that deliberation… hurt deeply.

Once more, he wondered how he ever got convinced that Seoho would be different.

~~~~~~~~~

“You never did tell me what you wanted in return.”

Geonhak glanced up across the table that separated the two of them at the restaurant- just a simple outing with home cooked meals that they frequented because the old owner lady liked that they were very polite. 

He lowered his chopsticks with a cocked eyebrow as Seoho stared at him expectantly, thought his eyes were soft. “For what?”

“The bet,” Seoho replied, lowering his eyes and shifting his noodles around slowly. “Back then. You never actually named any terms for if you won.”

Geonhak frowned gently, chuckling briefly at the random mention of the past. He grinned, leaning on one hand, staring across at Seoho who wasn’t looking back up.

Nothing about the way they looked at each other was tainted by a bet.

“Did I win?” he asked, coy and taunting.

Seoho snorted, shaking his head, though he still didn’t look up. “We’re nearly three years deep, yes, I think you won,” he laughed.

The statement didn’t bring nearly as much satisfaction as Geonhak had thought it would when he took on that bet. But then again, the bet had been voided null and useless within the first few months.

The warmth that bloomed in his chest was entirely different.

But he hummed, shrugging slowly and watching the bubbles in his drink float to the surface. “In truth… I never had anything in mind, anyway,” he confessed. “I don’t know if I didn’t ever think I’d actually win… or maybe I just didn’t think you were being serious about the whole thing. I tried to save face a lot back then.”

“You still do,” Seoho muttered, making Geonhak contemplate throwing a napkin at him, but it never left his hand. 

Geonhak merely shook his head and ate a large bite to save from answering. He said nothing in return because he had no defense from that.

He knew that he’d been too panicked to think of a prize for the bet, at first… and after that, he was too wrapped up in the reality of it to concern himself with considering it just a simple bet anymore.

He’d cared too much too fast to ever belatedly think of a prize.

All too quickly, Geonhak had been too invested, too deep… But he hadn’t been afraid.

Seoho had somehow made it so easy not to be afraid.

“Yeah, but not around you. I don’t care what  _ you _ think about me,” he stated firmly, staring pointedly. 

Seoho laughed- louder and more genuine as he finally met Geonhak’s eyes. “Bullshit- you care  _ so much _ .” 

Geonhak didn’t try and defend against that, either- unbothered by the accusation.

Horrifically, Seoho was the one person he did care what they thought. His only saving grace was that regardless of what he did… Seoho had never said a harsh word and meant it.

~~~~~~~~~

The coffee shop hadn’t changed in less than a year.

It still smelled like rich vanilla and coffee beans. It always made Geonhak huff and puff because it smelled  _ so good _ , but coffee was  _ so disgusting _ . 

Every now and then, he used to order something with caffeine, but each time he would only get through a handful of sips before he couldn’t stand it anymore, shoving it at Seoho who shoved it back, stealing Seoho’s cup- the two of them fighting for it, Seoho saying that it was his own fault and that he wouldn’t share.

It always ended with Geonhak either getting something new or just stealing enough of Seoho’s drink for it to be fine.

(Seoho gave in too quick in those moments, too, hiding smile and rolling his eyes.)

It was only fair, since Geonhak usually ended up buying for both of them anyway. Not for any way of being owed, but because… well, that was what he had been trying to tell Seoho.

He’d done it because that was what he thought Seoho deserved.

Geonhak stood outside the shop’s door for too long, wondering if Seoho was already there and wondering whether it was better to be the first or last one there… The only thing that kept him from standing out there even longer was the fact that there were too many windows.

If Seoho was inside, he could probably see Geonhak standing there, and he didn’t want… He didn’t want that.

He pushed open the door with a silent breath, immediately enveloped in an almost suffocating warmth that came with coffee shops, more scents mixing with the vanilla and coffee- cinnamon and hazelnut and sweet milk- as he stomped the snow off his boots on the entrance rug.

As he stood there, shaking off the chill, he scanned the shop. It was small, but there were a few tables that were more secluded than others- Geonhak’s eyes immediately searching those corners.

He saw Seoho sitting, staring at his phone, at a table for two in the left corner. He was frowning, lips clenched between his teeth, as if there was something concerning on his phone, his hands shifting like he was trying to decide whether to click something or not.

Geonhak forced himself to walk over instead of staring, pushed by the thought of Seoho looking up and seeing him hesitating.

It seemed wrong, willingly seeking out Seoho again. It felt like their only interactions should be through unfortunate happenstance.

As the space between the table and himself shortened, he found himself idly wishing he had taken up Youngjo on his offer to tag along, even just to the coffee shop door. He’d said ‘no’ on reflex, but now he was trying not to throw up again, and he wished there was at least someone else he could have on his side.

Maybe that would make it an even fight against Seoho and stupid, rapid fire words.

Geonhak was actually standing at the table by the time Seoho noticed him, glancing up from phone with a tense expression that cleared into something calmer, surprised at Geonhak suddenly standing there, but not unsettled.

“Oh, you’re here-“

He glanced at the door, as if wondering when he’d gotten here. Seoho placed his phone on the table, locking it, but Geonhak caught sight of the screen for a split moment, recognizing their text conversation from last night lighting up the screen.

He merely nodded, still standing, swallowing.

Seoho stared up at him, that awkwardness clinging to the edges of his eyes and mouth as he gestured to the other seat. “Do you…?”

Geonhak wondered if he could say no and get this over with quicker, but he merely nodded slowly, taking his seat carefully just as the waitress walked up to them to greet them.

Seoho ordered a hot mocha drink. Geonhak ordered a vanilla cream drink.

As the woman left, Seoho cleared his throat gently, clearly trying to appear at ease.

“Do you still hate coffee?” he asked loftily, like making conversation and poking at an old joke all at once.

Geonhak felt a flicker of discomfort in his stomach at the quiet smile- once more, that flaring sensation of  _ how dare he joke like nothing happened, even just a day ago. _

“Was I supposed to grow out of that, too?” 

Geonhak cursed himself the moment the words fell, wishing he could suck them back in, out of existence, his jaw clenching as Seoho’s face fell, clearly not expecting the sharp response, no matter how leveled it was.

There would be no yelling- not in such a quiet atmosphere with so many people, but that didn’t mean Geonhak didn’t feel the same injustice bubble in his stomach, the thought of being not enough and still being forced to face that fact again and again.

It wasn’t just his way of showing affection that felt bruised under the attacks… it was the entire, innate part of his personality that he had had since he was a teenager and younger.

Seoho’s face fell slowly, leaving something hollow in its wake as he lowered his eyes to his fingers that rubbed at the table. “I said I didn’t want to turn it into an argument,” he murmured, both gentle and the barest edge of reprimanding.

As if he believed he deserved that retort, but that he was still making his claim at civility. 

Geonhak dug his heels in, body and mind trying to find his footing here, tense but not aggressive. He wasn’t here to be aggressive. “I’m not arguing, I’m asking,” he said, flat but undeniably unsteady at the edges of his words. 

Seoho gave him an exasperated look that wasn’t curbed by a fond smile- this one was sharper. “Geonhak, I want this to be civil.”

“Is it very civil to walk out on someone without a single word of explanation after you were together for four years?”

Why now, of all times, for his throat to unstick, letting out every thought that flowed into Geonhak’s head pass through his tongue? He didn’t regret the words because they was true.

He did regret the flicker of something unpleasant across Seoho’s calm expression. He did not regret finally being able to speak his mind.

Geonhak had spent so much time being silent about it all- to himself and others- and he was tired of holding things inside his chest to let them fester.

It wasn’t fair to unload it all when Seoho was trying but Geonhak was tired of holding burning words in his chest, not speaking for fear of burning himself and others.

Seoho’s lips thinned, not annoyed but stiff. “Are you really going to turn this into a-“

“ _ You _ gave up on civility when you walked away without a word and without even letting me speak,” Geonhak snapped under his breath, very aware of the quiet around them, but his tone made up for what he lacked in volume-

“I  _ know _ that,” Seoho hissed back, glaring heatedly as they both kept their voices low. “I fucking know that, Geonhak- Why do you think I’m trying to do it right this time?”

“Is that why you wanted to meet up?” he demanded quietly, stomach rolling. “To break up with me more effectively?”

Seoho got that familiar look of resisting the urge to strangle Geonhak, but it lacked the bright light in his eyes to make it truly familiar. “Will you just let me talk?” Seoho muttered, exasperated, quelling the argument by not reciprocating. “Or you do have something you want to say?”

Geonhak’s jaw tightened with more harsh words he wanted to let fall like acid rain.

But… he did not want to become the icy wall that refused to let reason pierce it.

Instead, he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and tried not to let the anger in his stomach escape as he took a deep breath. He wasn’t here to fight. He didn’t want to fight.

He wanted closure. He wanted answers.

Even more than that… he wanted to forget that anything had ever happened.

“I started… noticing stuff, about three months before…” Seoho’s quiet voice trailed off, swallowing thickly as he stared at the table, not even thinking of lifting his eyes to Geonhak’s. “I started noticing stuff,” he said, ending the sentence there.

Geonhak bit back another harsh word, swallowing it and adding to the ice that was rapidly cooling his stomach.

“Nothing big, but I just… started noticing how little you actually said stuff,” he said, calm and slow enough for the words not to sound like arrows shooting him down. They sounded like the explanation he had never gotten. “I started noticing that most of the time, when I tried to say something, you either dodged it, ignored it, or just didn’t say anything back.”

“I never ignored it.”

Seoho glanced up, expression unchanging. But Geonhak simply remained silent, lips stiff.

Maybe he had turned away, maybe he hadn’t been able to reply, maybe he’d begged Seoho not to say something sappy….

But the moment the words were spoken, Geonhak had never ignored them. Never treated them as if they weren’t worth anything. He saved those words, even if they made his skin feel too warm.

After a moment, Seoho merely inclined his head, lowering his eyes again, as if agreeing with the interruption.

Seoho hadn’t been obsessive with his ‘I love you’s either, but he had most definitely said them a hundred, a thousand times more often than Geonhak ever did. 

But Geonhak had never treated them lightly when they were given.

There was another moment of silence where Seoho gathered his thoughts again.

“And I don’t know  _ why _ ,” Seoho muttered, drawing his arms in and leaning on them, almost hugging himself as he continued not to meet Geonhak’s eyes, “but it started… hurting, where it hadn’t before.”

_ Why didn’t you tell me?  _ Geonhak wanted to scream. To shake him and demand it. He simply crossed his arms a little tighter.

The waitress appeared, setting down their drinks, and Geonhak had enough mind about him to thank her quietly as she walked away.

Neither of them touched their cups. Seoho hadn’t even moved, looking like stone as he stared at some middle distance.

“I thought I was just in a mood or something, but it… it didn’t go away,” he murmured, swallowing, arms tightening. “And I thought I was just being stupid or something, so I tried to ignore it…”

Seoho hadn’t said a word about it, but Geonhak’s brain could fill in the blanks.

“And then one day, it was suddenly unbearable?”

Seoho looked up sharply, defensive and reserved, but unable to hide the part of his eyes that was carefully guarding an undeniable vulnerability that hadn’t been present in the snow while they were yelling at each other.

Geonhak’s throat burned with the words.

Seoho looked away again, neither confirming nor denying. “There was never single point in the four years that we were together… that I ever had an issue with how we operated together.”

That confession… made Geonhak freeze.

He didn’t know what expression he was making, but it didn’t matter because Seoho didn’t look at him, afraid of what he might find.

“Dodging affection, not saying anything, keeping to yourself…” Seoho swallowed painfully, visibly wincing as if there was a needle in his throat. “That was just you,” he whispered, shrugging gently. “That was who you were and who you had  _ always _ been… I  _ always _ knew that, I always accepted that… and I really did love you for it.”

_ That _ confession made Geonhak want to vomit, visibly flinching, his muscles clenching like he was about to take off running in a moment-

It made his heart beat, slow and painfully hard- jarring his entire bloodstream with each beat.

There was never a single point…

Then how had it all fallen apart so quickly…

Seoho still did not meet his eyes, but his expression feel into something darker like guilt.

Geonhak blinked, trying to make sure he was ready it correctly, but… anger was absent from Seoho’s eyes, leaving something bordering on vulnerability.

That was an emotion Geonhak hadn’t seen often on Seoho, even when they were together and before. That was an expression reserved for the bottom of the barrel, the moments when he couldn’t go on any longer without lessening the burden.

And despite the discomfort still simmering in his stomach… Geonhak felt it twist, wondering how long Seoho had been shouldering this confession.

“When I left… I had to convince myself a hundred times that it was the best course of action.”

_ And how did that feel, to be so sure? To know with certainty what was happening? _

“I had to convince myself over and over to go through with it because…” Seoho’s fingers scratched gently at the coat covering his elbows. “Because I didn’t want to. To leave. But I thought that… that I had to. That anything else was… was just going to make it worse. I tried to stick it out to the end, but…”

Geonhak wanted to scoff, but his throat had closed up.

Because Seoho had never been one to talk about something while it was happening. He always tried to wait until the storm had passed…

He’d been hurting, convinced himself that talking about it would only convince him to stay where it hurt, and he made it hurt so that he wouldn’t be tempted to turn back around.

“I… I had to cut it all at once,” Seoho confessed quietly, not shaking but soft and distant. “If I told you more about it, if I didn’t break away completely… I knew that I’d stay. And I… I had myself convinced that staying was only going to make it hurt worse.”

Geonhak and Seoho… hadn’t been used to hurt. Their arguments had been minimal, even during their friendship- real arguments, with hurtful words thrown like knives. They weren’t accustomed to that, and if something did happen, it died down quickly with the pressure of familiarity and memories pushing them back together.

So as much as Geonhak wanted to tear Seoho’s excuses apart… he knew that feeling that hurt, no matter how insignificant… The thought that the hurt would come back again and again, that it was now a permanent thing…

That you had entered into something you couldn’t get out of… That you were stuck…

In the darkest part of his heart… part of him felt relief, that Seoho would run and tear himself away when he was being hurt, that he wouldn’t just sit and endure it because…

Geonhak didn’t want him to hurt. He felt sick mixed with anger at the thought of being the thing that had caused that, even as unintentional and misunderstood as it had been.

He wished Seoho had told him. He wished he had asked.

He could understand why this- no matter how seemingly small- would scare them into running.

Geonhak probably would have run, too.

But that didn’t stop his tight throat from forcing itself open. “Why didn’t you tell me?” It wasn’t an accusation, it wasn’t a demand… 

It wasn’t a whisper, but it was close- softer than any words they’d exchanged since their meeting, and he watched Seoho’s eyes close for a moment, gathering himself before they opened slowly, not looking over. 

“Before it got worse, before it kept happening… why didn’t you tell me, even just once, what you wanted to hear?” he whispered, once again floating away from accusing, towards regret.

“I didn’t want you to say it because I wanted to hear it,” Seoho said, voice hardening for a split moment but fading quickly back into something like exhaustion. “I thought that if you meant it… you would say it.”

His jaw tightened, his hands dropping to his lap, running the edge of his coat between his fingertips. “I can’t read your mind, Seoho-“

“I didn’t want you to read my mind,” he hissed, sharpening once more, eyes narrowing. “I wanted to hear what was on yours.”

“I said it before,” Geonhak said quickly, not sharp but adamant. “I thought you understood.”

“I  _ did _ ,” Seoho stressed, expression strained. “I always did, before that point. But that doesn’t mean that there isn’t part of me that wished-“

He cut off, lips thinning, frustrated and silent.

“That wished I would change,” Geonhak filled in, chest hollow and voice a breath.

“That’s not what I wanted,” Seoho said firmly, shaking his head at the gentle accusation. “I didn’t want you to change, I just wanted-“

He stopped again, sighing, shaking his head sharper, and Geonhak was sure he was fighting against waves of emotions he didn’t want escaping.

Seoho ended up scoffing again, his hand falling helplessly onto the table, as if he had reached a puzzle he had finally given up on.

“I got fucking insecure, okay?” he burst under his breath, dropping his head and running his hands through his hair roughly. “I made it four years without a problem, but out of the blue, I just felt-“

He stopped, breathing out shallowly.

Geonhak took a slow breath, the word already existing in the very back of his mind for years.

“Nothing I did was  _ smart _ or  _ planned _ or reasonable because I was fucking  _ scared _ , alright?” he muttered, glaring at Geonhak, as if it was his fault. “This whole thing started as a bet, and it had been almost four years, and I suddenly kept thinking that maybe you were reaching a point where you’d question why were still doing this after so long over a stupid dare-“

“You seriously thought I was only here because of the  _ bet _ ?” Geonhak scoffed, abruptly sharp and harsh in shock-

“ _ No _ ,” Seoho burst quietly, shaking his head weakly. “No, I didn’t- I just…” His voice died, helpless.

For once… it was Seoho who didn’t have the words.

Geonhak’s last remaining anger fizzled our at the weakness in Seoho’s voice, a kind that he wasn’t sure he had ever heard before.

Seoho dragged his palms over his eyes, and when he pulled them away, they dragged dampness down his cheek.

Maybe Geonhak… didn’t have a right to talk.

Insecurities… those were hardly ever rational. Even less often were they ignorable, unable to be turned into nothing but background fears.

They were the thing that kept Geonhak from even considering a romantic relationship for 22 years, and kept him terrified until he had heard Seoho reassure him enough times.

If he had been there, with a Seoho who hoarded his words like a treasure, Geonhak would had run long ago. Because it didn’t matter, even with a constant reassurance…

Once that fear whispered in the back of your mind, it was only a matter of time before you were complacent enough that it burst to the front of your mind, swallowing your every thought, action, and interpretation.

And God knew that Geonhak had never been good at reassuring people, much less someone who had made themselves as vulnerable as Geonhak had. He had never been under the impression that Seoho was overly confident or entirely at ease with their relationship- he knew that he was also new to this, being with someone for this long, giving this much of himself over…

However, they had both always known that it was Geonhak who was terrified here, and maybe he hadn’t been smart enough to look far enough beyond that.

But Geonhak’s gut twisted at the thought that for three months, Seoho had hidden that fear. Maybe he could have told Geonhak… but Geonhak also could have asked, could have checked in with him…

He knew that Seoho didn’t want him to change, but insecurities made you want things you knew weren’t necessary.

But even in just moments, those things consumed you.

Insecurities… made you do things you might come to regret, forcing you either into fearful inaction or split second decisions.

“I wanted to break it off early, instead of letting it all fall apart slowly,” Seoho said, voice quiet to keep from showing how unsteady it was. “I want to end it, instead of waking up one morning and suddenly finding it ruined.”

_ Like I did? _ Geonhak didn’t say. He forced the bitter thoughts away, no longer finding comfort in them.

He only felt bitter pity on his tongue, understanding bringing a pain he had been immune to while thinking Seoho had merely wanted to hurt him, had not thought him worthy of explanation.

It hurt even worse, seeing the pain and fear in Seoho’s eyes that he had not been privy to when he was walking away.

Seoho winced, wetting his lips. “I know… that what I did was shitty,” he murmured heavily, thickly. “And… I’m sorry.” He glanced up, glassy eyes meeting Geonhak’s. “You didn’t deserve that… and at the time, I wasn’t thinking about hurting you, I just needed to make sure I could get away.”

Geonhak took a slow breath as Seoho cleared his throat, taking a slow sip of his drink as a way to put distance between them.

Geonhak was suddenly staring at a year in an entirely different light.

He was staring at Seoho, all the anger and sharp words drained from both of them, leaving them bare.

And for the first time in a year… it felt like the two of them again.

Without the anger and bitterness, without the yelling and accusations.

He felt like he was seeing Seoho- the Seoho he knew, not the one who’d pulled away from him and left- for the first time in that year.

And the surge of realizing how much Geonhak had missed him… was nearly enough to make him throw up.

“You didn’t deserve it, either,” He murmured, making Seoho freeze, lowering his cup slowly. Geonhak stared at the table, fingernail scratching against the wood darkly. “Feeling like that… You shouldn’t have had to feel like that. I should have… said something. You shouldn’t have had to feel… like you were alone.” 

If he had known, he would have swallowed the paralysis that overtook his throat, he would have said what he needed to say, no matter how stupid it might sound coming out.

Because like he said… he was bad with words, but he wasn’t an idiot. He would have never let embarrassment keep him from removing that fear. He would have never let something as stupid as wanting to sound articulate to stop him reassuring Seoho that everything they had…

Everything they had was the best part of Geonhak’s life.

If he’d known that it wasn’t enough… he would have adapted, he would stepped outside his comfort more, for the sake of Seoho feeling as safe within this relationship as he did.

_ He wished he had known. _

“That… was why I wanted to meet up again,” Seoho confessed, a bit rough. He stared at his cup, swirling it slowly. “To explain that… And to apologize. Both for how I left… and for the way yesterday’s conversation went.”

He looked ill, and Geonhak wasn’t feeling much better.

He wasn’t sure if understanding was making a difference, or if it was just adding another layer of hurt because in the end… it was still over, even if they understood.

“Youngjo called me… this morning,” Seoho murmured, tapping against his mug. “Not for anything underhanded, of course… he didn’t even scold me.”

Youngjo didn’t scold people. He just gave them motivating talks, and if you had done something wrong, you would feel it worse than a slap to the face.

“But he did give me a little more information than I had before…” He swallowed. “Information that I  _ did _ have,” he corrected, “but after I left… I guess I forget about it. Or maybe I just didn’t want to think about. I guess I knew that I… messed up, leaving how I did. I didn’t want to think about, though. I didn’t want to risk wanting to go back.”

_ Did you want to go back? Even after? Even now? _

Geonhak sipped his drink, and it tasted like every winter they’d spend huddled in here like it was a second home.

“He… reminded me of everything you’d already said,” Seoho said, glancing up briefly before tearing his fragile gaze away. “That you had been reassuring me in the ways you always did. That you were telling me everything I was telling you, just in a different way…” He laughed unsteadily. “And I was too stupid to understand that when it mattered most.”

“Not stupid,” Geonhak said, almost coming out a sigh as his stomach finally cooled, leeching anger and defensiveness from his bloodstream.

All that was left was regret and pity- everything, at the fact that Seoho had run because he thought it was better to hurt now than to hurt more later.

Geonhak couldn’t see that hurt, in the moment, when all he could see was anger and all he could hear was accusations.

He couldn’t see the hurt, and he didn’t hear the desire for reassurance, for comfort…

Even if he had… it had probably been too late to give it.

“I  _ knew _ what you were saying, back then,” Seoho hissed, glaring weakly at his hands. “I’d  _ always _ known, and that was one the things that had always-“ He cut off. “It had always been something that was better than words,” he murmured. “It took extra effort to do all the things you did, and I  _ knew _ that. I loved that-“

He cut off again, lips thinning dangerously, and Geonhak felt a needle slowly enter his chest.

It was easy to lie with words. It was easy for words to lose meaning. It was easy to become complacent with words.

But all the little actions that took up a majority of your day- month after month? The knowledge that every action and look was intentional and purposeful… That had been what Geonhak wanted him to understand.

“I understood that,” Seoho said firmly, fingers lacing together tightly. “And…” His knuckled turned white on each other. “And I never wanted you to change that. I never,  _ ever _ thought that it wasn’t enough- Not once.”

His jaw twitched.

Geonhak waited.

“It wasn’t that I thought it wasn’t enough,” Seoho murmured quietly, shaking his head slowly. “Not even when I started getting scared. It was… It was just that I started to think… that if you actually did… love me as much I loved you… then shouldn’t you be able to say it, too?”

Geonhak’s tongue tasted like ash. “Seoho-“

“I  _ know _ that’s not now it works,” he burst out, firm and resolute, agreeing where he had viciously attacked earlier, calmer than they had been during their first conversation. “I know that all I needed to do was ask and you would have said something, I know that you had been telling me in a hundred different way, I know that I was fucking asshole who fucked it all up and took you down with me-“

Geonhak wasn’t sure if he cut himself off or if it was his voice that broke, but his head dropped, fingers curling into a fist that shook as his hair fell across his eyes.

Seoho took a sharp breath. “I know all that now. The problem is that I thought of it too late.”

_ It wasn’t too late. You could have explained it. _

“Even after I realized I’d fucked up… It’d been so long, and I figured I’d already ruined things, so I didn’t bother trying to explain myself.”

“That wasn’t your decision to make.”

This one also came out softer than either of them were prepared for.

Seoho looked up, eyes red but dry as they met Geonhak’s, his own arms cross over his chest tightly, like he might start shivering.

“Deciding that it was too ruined to reach back out to me?” he murmured, eyes gentle and Seoho’s wide. “That was a decision for both of us to make.”

Even if he had been afraid of Geonhak’s reaction… they both should have decided it was too far gone.

Seoho looked as if Geonhak had just slapped him across the face, stunned and silent.

“And I know that it was my fault, too,” Geonhak admitted.

Somehow, the words made his chest lighter, instead of heavier.

“I thought I was doing enough, but even if I was, it was still… unfair to assume that silence would always be enough.” He swallowed the stone in his throat as Seoho stared at him in something akin to horror. “Even if I couldn’t always do it… I should have known that existing in silence with anyone, no matter how close you are, was bound to have a limit.”

“I never  _ wanted _ you to change,” Seoho pressed, like he was afraid of Geonhak believing it, despite his earlier accusations-

“It’s not about changing, it’s about adapting,” he said firmly, the words settling on his chest… almost comfortingly.

Knowing what had gone wrong… it was easier to accept that both of them could have done things better.

Knowing that there was something to fix, instead of just an inherent flaw…

Maybe Seoho shouldn’t have left like he did, maybe he should have said something… But maybe Geonhak should have known that someone who gives constant verbal reassurance and love needed some words in turn. Maybe Geonhak should have asked, even in passing, even if things seemed okay.

Maybe Geonhak should have been a little less selfish with his words. Maybe he should have learned to use them like his actions.

“Maybe it worked when we were just friends, and maybe it’d be okay while we were dating, but… in the long term?” Geonhak shook his head slowly, feeling his stomach settle slowly, a dull comfort sitting there. “I could have done more. I would have, if I had realized.”

Seoho’s expression pinched, a flicker of regret there. “You didn’t  _ need _ to,” he murmured, thick with guilt. “But I know you would have…” he whispered in a voice so familiar from four years…

Geonhak was shocked when the words caused the piercing pain his chest to dull, like a blunt force trauma wound, rather than a knife’s attack.

He had never been under the impression that he had been completely blame free, but the way Seoho had laid it all across him… it had hurt.

Sharing that guilt, both of them acknowledging the mistakes they had made… it felt better. Not good… but better.

Geonhak has messed up. But knowing was better than leaving the wounds open. Stitches hurt, but… maybe those wounds could scar now and they could both…

Geonhak hoped that they could both learn to be happy again. Really happy.

He hoped that now… that now, maybe Seoho would be happy too. Because it was clear that Seoho had not been unaffected in this year apart.

Geonhak silently wished he could have been there, during that year, even being part of the reason they were apart.

The thought of Seoho sitting, stewing in that fearful insecurity alone… it made him sick to his stomach.

But when he blinked slowly to clear his head, when he opened his eyes… Seoho stares at him a little more relieved, a little lighter… a little grateful.

Geonhak released a breath, tension leaving his shoulders slowly.

He never thought he’d ever be able to look at Seoho and feel relief again.

“It would have been useful to come to these realizations sooner,” Geonhak murmured, staring at the ripples of his drink that had done lukewarm. “Maybe something could have been salvaged.”

The thought of it hurt, that maybe they could have saved something.

But this… was better than nothing.

“Are you… making that decision without the both of us?”

At the nervous whisper, Geonhak glanced up, wondering what he had misheard, but Seoho was actually looking at him… and he looked scared for the first time, the look of someone holding out their hand and waiting for something to attack the offering.

Geonhak stared blankly. “What?”

Seoho’s jaw flexed. “You said before… that those kinds of decisions should be made with both of us. Like things being unsalvageable.”

Geonhak stared some more. And then the dull throb in his chest flared in a sharp, searing branding iron pressed to his heart and stealing his lungs.

“Are you saying that you want to try again?”

It came out like an accusation. A demand.

Seoho looked like he was standing on the glass walkway that was beginning to crack.

~~~~~~~~

“You’re gross.

Geonhak glanced up. “What?”

Dongju frowned in disappointment, pointing his ice cream spoon at Geonhak accusingly. “You’re texting your boyfriend and being disgusting by smiling.”

“That’s not disgusting,” Geonhak huffed, sliding down on the couch with a huff. 

“He’s in the  _ kitchen _ .”

Geonhak threw a pillow at him, making him shriek in fear of losing his ice cream, which he ignored and went back to staring at his phone.

**Dumbass:** _ Hwanwoong wants to know if you want chocolate. _

Seoho’s name in his phone changed every other week- sometimes by his hand, and sometimes by Seoho’s. This one was courtesy of Geonhak.

“What are you even  _ smiling _ at?” Dongju demanded, crawling across the couch to try and see his screen. “Are you guys sending nudes or some shit?”

Geonhak swatted him away, shoving him back onto his side of the couch. “If we were, do you want to see that?” he demanded, rolling his eyes as Dongju pouted and sank into the cushions.

He huffed, turning back to the text.

He wasn’t sure what he was smiling at, it was just a text about ice cream.

But still, Geonhak’s lips twitched against his will as he text back a simple request for chocolate, heart doing a dangerous tap dance in his chest that he was starting to become more and more familiar and comfortable with the presence of.

It was commonplace for Geonhak to find weird things easier to put up with around Seoho. Things he never thought he would have had the patience for.

(Like Seoho bringing him his ice cream, handing it off, and immediately sitting in Geonhak’s lap, nearly spilling his food and crushing his legs.)

He still fought back at smile, fighting to keep himself annoyed as he shoved Seoho’s ass onto the floor to the laughter of everyone finally present.

He did, however, allow him to sit on the floor between his legs, head tilted to rest on Geonhak’s knee as they all talked, one hand sometimes absentmindedly wrapping around Geonhak’s ankle

He couldn’t even name the thing that made him always smile without hope of refusing. But it was commonplace around Seoho, whatever it was.

It  _ was _ Seoho.

~~~~~~~~~

“He… asked you out again?” It was hard to tell if Keonhee’s voice was bordering near anger or disbelief, neither emotion necessarily aggressive.

Geonhak turned his chopsticks between his fingers, staring at his ramen blankly. “Not necessarily,” he murmured, feeling tired and a little numb and entirely too sensitive. “But he just pointed out that… things ended because of a misunderstanding. If we had been better about it…” He shook his head. “There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with us. He was just saying that, if we wanted to, now that things are all out in the open…”

He was willing.

But he reminded Geonhak that neither of them owed each other anything, and that… if he ever found out Geonhak agreed without it being what he actually wanted, he was going to kick his ass into next Tuesday and use Geonhak’s own detached leg to do it.

Geonhak had rolled his eyes inside the coffee shop.

He’d cried on the way back to his apartment, the familiar threat playing in his head- especially common during those times when they couldn’t bring themselves to be sincere, so they threatened each other with physical harm, instead.

The more violent the threat, the more worried they were.

Keonhee and Youngjo were waiting for him at his apartment when he and Seoho parted ways with an agreement to think it over and to… maybe contact each other when their decisions were made.

No time limit was given to them. 

“Are…” Youngjo hesitated, glancing over Geonhak’s slightly despondent expression. “Are you… considering it?”

Geonhak didn’t know.

He didn’t know anything at the moment. Because it seemed so impossible and cruel to try again after everything, after a year of not even seeing each other once.

All the scars and open wounds… ones that had been inflicted without full understanding…

But the knowledge of what had caused it… the forces behind it and the shared blame between them… It made him feel like they had been cheated out of something they had both wanted.

There wasn’t anything inherently  _ wrong _ with them, they just needed to open up a little more. Trust a little more. Understand a little more.

It felt like the two of them had something the closest to perfect they could have… that had simply fallen apart because of a mistake.

It made him want to give them a second chance and do it  _ right _ this time. Actually right.

But…

But it still hurt.

But maybe they could fix it.

But what was done was done.

But no, it wasn’t.

“I don’t know,” he confessed quietly, stirring his ramen. “I need to think it over.”

“Don’t stress over it,” Youngjo said quietly, patting his shoulder gently. “Make sure of everything… but don’t let it get overwhelming.”

Geonhak’s lips twitched, despite the hole in his chest. “Good words of advice, Mr. I-Stick-My-Nose-In-People’s-Business,” he muttered, tossing him a look.

Youngjo was unapologetic, but he huffed. “Excuse me for trying to make sure neither of you were tearing at scars,” he said firmly. “I didn’t know what the two of you said, but I’d always wanted to say a few things to Seoho. I held off for the sake of not making things worse, but… I thought now was the time to remind him of a few things.”

Geonhak sighed, heavy and tired as he fell back onto the couch, letting it take his weight.

Keonhee sighed, shaking his head shamefully. “Sometimes, I feel like things would be easier if dating didn’t exist.”

Easier…

Geonhak thought back to his past life, focused on two things: work and his friends that he refused to increase the numbers of. He’d loved his friends, he’d loved his work… but…

“No,” Geonhak murmured, more to himself than anything, unsure if the others even heard him. “No, I don’t think it would have been easier.”

Easier was not what his life would have been without Seoho.

The silence that followed didn’t give him any answers.

~~~~~~~~~

Seoho shoved Geonhak into the snow.

He fell hard, unexpecting, sinking into the foot of icy flakes layering the park they were walking through.

“You-“

“Make a snow angel!” Seoho demanded, already getting his phone out, either taking pictures or taking a video. Either one would likely be blurry because of how hard he was laughing.

Instead, Geonhak flung a handful of snow at him, huffing and soaked and freezing… But he was already down here, so he swung his arms, making a horrendous shape that was certainly not a snow angel, but it was close enough.

His hair was soaked, sticking to him and freezing as he got up, brushing the flurries off of himself, practically dancing to get some warmth back into his blood, shivering and occasionally cursing-

Seoho was still laughing, phone still held up despite how shaky it was.

Geonhak lunged at him, Seoho dodging. He chased him. Seoho started yelling for him not to hurt him, but Geonhak didn’t give up, even when they both slipped, going down into the snow in a tangle of limbs and freezing skin and wet clothes.

The sound of laughter and cursing and shoving and warmth scratched against the muffled audio and camera that had gone black when they landed on the phone-

~~~~~~~

Geonhak stared at the video on his phone, held in a folder that he hadn’t been brave enough to open in nearly a year.

Listening to their voices, watching the way they acted… the way they took videos and photos, not concerned with capturing a perfect angle, but filling their storage with stupid moments that shouldn’t hold any significance…

But they meant everything.

They  _ were _ everything.

Everything that made them last those four years. Everything that made the year apart hurt like a physical wound.

Everything that Geonhak wanted back.

Everything he was afraid was a mistake to try again for.

Why _ are you hesitating?  _ He asked himself in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Youngjo’s when he was guiding them through whatever mental breakdown they were trying to deal with, ever a voice of reason.

_ Why am I hesitating… What am I afraid of? _

If he did go back and start over… what was he afraid of happening?

He was afraid of being hurt again. He was afraid of it being different, changed by the absence and distance. He was afraid of having his own insecurities flair up, constantly afraid that Seoho was hiding something, constantly second guessing himself and how his intentions were being received, now that he knew that there could be a miscommunication…

In the event that those things didn’t happen, what could he get? That almost blissful existence where he truly believed he could trust and not be burned.

If the event that they did, what could he get? Well… the same thing he had now. Loneliness, regret, questions with no answers, and a pain in his chest that only ever dulled, never healed.

And seeing Seoho, being reminded of all those little things he had chosen to forget- the way he couldn’t stand to stay silent for long, the way his lips moved when he tried to find the right words, the way his head tilted when he was thinking hard…

The way Geonhak wanted to respond to each remark with a familiar sarcastic huff that he wasn’t allowed now because that wasn’t what they were anymore.

But Seoho… Seoho was offering a chance to get that back.

_ “I understand… if you want to tell me to fuck off, I really do, Geonhak,” he said, expression pinching at the thought of all the reasons Geonhak had to walk away this time. “But I… I fucked up before, when I didn’t give us every chance. I don’t want to make that mistake again.” _

Seoho had paid for both their drinks before Geonhak left, their parting words just being a quiet thank you for taking the time to meet up and listen.

Geonhak swiped on his phone, bringing up the next video in that folder he hadn’t touched in a year.

It was taken only days after the previous one, still snow covered and visible breaths. It was only thirty seconds long with a dark screen like someone was covering the camera- flashes of white and light as the sounds of struggling and annoyed laughter abused the microphone.

_ “Stop fucking filming-“ _

_ “Show the sweater!”  _ Geonhak’s voice demanded, muffled and muted by the scuffle.

_ “We agreed that we wouldn’t show anyone!” _

_ “No one is gonna see it- I’m not going to send it to the group chat-“ _

_ “Like hell you won’t!” _

_ “I swear, just-“ _

There was a final flash of light- a glimpse of green and red and white sweater on Seoho’s blurred body that was attacking before the video ended. He hadn’t sent it to the group chat. No one but him had ever seen that sweater Seoho liked to wear on the nights they stayed in.

Geonhak remembered that sweater. He swiped once more because… well, he didn’t know what else to do.

There were two options he was faced with, and Geonhak didn’t know what to do.

There were dozens of short videos- most of them ending in the camera being shoved or dropped in some way, always catching the last shouts of laughs. Most were of Seoho, of course, being from Geonhak’s phone… but there were some of himself, from when Seoho would steal his phone.

There was one of Geonhak bent over a bowl of ramen, clearly in pain from some sort of spice, his face red as he glanced up, noticing the position of the phone and attacked-

He was smiling, even though the video was blurry, laughing more than he was angry as he threatened to push Seoho’s face into the spicy soup.

The next one… had ended up in the group chat- a quiet video of him snickering behind the camera, holding it still as he brought a sleeping Seoho into view from where he had fallen asleep across the couch, curled up like a child under a big blanket Geonhak had laid over him.

_ “I leave to get the food for ten minutes… and I come back to him sleeping,”  _ Geonhak tisked.  _ “I don’t know why I’m even surprised.” _

Geonhak had learned very quickly that all it took to get Seoho to pass out was a little bit of warmth. Hence, his tendency to practically fall asleep on Geonhak anytime the two of them were close enough. Hence, his vehement hatred of Geonhak’s early morning schedule that took that away when he went to the gym.

_ “Ah, he looks like a baby,”  _ Geonhak’s voice cooed, mocking and stifling laughter as he zoomed in on Seoho’s face that was actually peaceful, rather than open mouthed and drooling.

He ignored the way his chest kept clenching at the ease they had existed with.

The video did make him look younger, even though it was two years ago at this point… A sleepy Seoho always acted like a kid, which meant Geonhak spent a lot of time yanking off octopus limbs and unsuctioning different parts of Seoho from him in order to escape.

Geonhak distinctly remembered ending this particular video, sighing in frustration, but he hadn’t woken Seoho up- simply lifted the blankets and pushed him over until there was room for both of them. He claimed, after Seoho woke up a long while later, that it was because it was cold outside and warm under the blankets.

The last video he watched dated just a few days before Christmas, and it wasn’t him or Seoho holding the camera, but some third party.

Geonhak knew that it was Youngjo, the memory of what the video was running faster than the moving parts he watched.

It was dimly lit, the myriad of colors form the strings of lights casting rainbows across everything as Seoho and Geonhak both exited the kitchen together, food on their plates as they all met up for a Christmas party.

_ “Stop!”  _ Hwanwoong’s voice yelled, laughter breaking out evilly across their friends as the two of them froze, frowning in alarm and suspicious confusion.

_ “Look up,”  _ Dongju ordered, voice shaking with laughter out of frame.

The two of them glanced up dumbly and saw a stupid sprig of mistletoe hanging above the kitchen doorway that had not been there when the two of them entered.

_ “That is such bullshit,”  _ Geonhak said, looking across at them all, mostly shocked at the level of dedication to set the scene up. His eyes met the camera and melted into a glare.  _ “Don’t fucking film it-“ _

The entire room broke out into screams as Seoho grinned in that perfect mixture of mischief and glee, grabbing Geonhak’s shoulder to whip him around and kiss him full on the mouth in front of all their friends.

The part that Geonhak would always deny was his response to that particular action. If you asked him, he pushed Seoho off, muttering curses about being set up and dumb friends.

To anyone else’s account- including the video playing- the two of them stayed there for much longer than their exasperation should have allowed them, both of them freezing in a soft lighting as their friends just laughed- some of them screaming in disgust, despite getting exactly what they had been setting them up for.

Geonhak stared at the two of them in the video… clearly having forgotten that they had an audience, lost in a moment with their bodies gravitating a little too close and their plates wavering dangerously in their distracted hands…

He swallowed hard, locking his phone and tossing it onto the couch next to him, sighing hard and deep as he scrubbed at his face.

It had always been easy to ignore the world around Seoho. In the past, it had just been that everything he’d done was so annoying, Geonhak kept a constant eye on him, leaping at any opportunity to make fun and yank pigtails.

Now, it was like walking outside at night- the sort of attraction like your eyes to the moon, walking blindly while you stared up at it. It was the same moon as always, the same as it had always been, the same one you saw every night of your life… yet somehow, there was always still something about it that made you look. Something about it that made it hard to breathe, hard not to smile, hard to look away…

Geonhak shut his eyes, staring at black lids.

The worst part was that he already knew what he wanted his answer to be. He just didn’t know if that decision was a stupid one. He didn’t know if it would only make things worse…

But, he reminded himself… this whole thing happened, not because of any sort of malicious intent or changed personality. It wasn’t that this was a different Seoho than he had ever known. He was still the same.

Still hanging in the sky, the same bright disk glowing in a night sky. The same one he’d seen a million times and more.

He’d been scared. Scared people made bad decisions… It wasn’t his fault. In fact, most of Geonhak’s twisted emotions came in the form of regret and pity… and a bit of guilt.

He should have noticed, he should have asked. Seoho shouldn’t have had to face that fear on his own, when Geonhak had never had to feel that fear because he’d always been reassured to hell and back.

Seoho should have never had to look at Geonhak and wonder if he really was as genuine as he thought.

Seoho should have been able to feel the same trust that Geonhak had been giving, backed by experience but still colored by fears that lingered in the back of his mind. Those fears never really went away.

He shut his eyes tighter. Seoho should not have had to face that fear alone, for months, before making a rash decision out of self-preservation. 

If it fell apart… Geonhak would just end up back where he was.

If it didn’t…

Geonhak never paid much attention in his economics classes, but he remembered something about which rewards were worth the risk. He knew there was some equation he could use to calculate it to the decimal… but he didn’t think that would help him here.

Mostly because, regardless of what number the equation spit out… he already knew what he’d choose.

~~~~~~~~~

“This… This isn’t just about the bet anymore… is it?”

Seoho glanced up from his drink innocently, meeting Geonhak’s eyes briefly before glancing around at the bar they were seated at- watching their friends mingling through the crowd and ignoring Dongju in the seat next to them, practically asleep on the counter.

They were set to graduate, in only a couple of months… and things were changing.

Geonhak wet his lips, the music loud but he didn’t hear it, watching Seoho swirl his one drink in its glass, clearly thinking about the right words.

“I don’t think so,” Seoho said quietly, glancing up- not hesitant, but gently questioning. “At least, not for me.” Another pause. “Is it for you?”

Geonhak laughed, his chest tight in a way that hurt but that felt good. “If I’m honest, I forgot about the bet pretty early on,” he confessed, hoping it came across even and smooth, not shaking like it felt in his chest.

Seoho snorted, giving him a look like he expected nothing less as he shook his head, swirling his drink again. “I sort of did, too… I figured… I figured we were moved on from there.”

Geonhak couldn’t name an exact moment when it changed from a bet to something more… but it was very, very early on. Possibly from the beginning, if he considered the fact that he’d never really faked anything.

He’d never forced himself, really, into anything.

Because dating Seoho was so much like just existing with him. It was easy and comfortable and full of the violence that Geonhak thought would disappear. Dating Seoho was…

It was good.

It was everything Geonhak was afraid of, assuaged.

It was proof that he could trust and not be burnt. Even if Seoho was stupid so often, even if Geonhak spent more time rolling his eyes than he cared to admit… It was safe here.

He was  _ happy _ with Seoho.

Seoho was safe.

~~~~~~~~~

The seconds between knocking on a door and the opening of a door are some of the most nerve-wracking on the planet.

Geonhak had seven seconds of immobile anxiety, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes flickering around, wondering where he was supposed to look, wondering if he’d even open, wondering if maybe he’d gotten the time wrong-

All seven seconds were counted in the back of his mind until he heard the door unlock.

A final thought of “Oh, shit, do I even have the right apartment?” raced through his mind, lasting all of two seconds before the door opened and showed Seoho standing there, expression already controlled by knowing who was at his door.

He offered a polite, stiff smile that was equal parts nervous and genuinely welcoming as he stepped aside, letting Geonhak in. “Hey,” he greeted, stilted.

Geonhak stepped inside, taking off his coat and glancing around.

Much like his own home, this one hadn’t changed a bit, aside from the side table that had once been on the left side of the couch was on the right, as well as the bookshelf in the corner being fuller than it had been last time- the empty bottom shelf now holding more binders and papers.

Everything else… was painfully preserved.

Seoho closed the door, the two of them standing in the entry way, just watching each other for a moment before Seoho swallowed, shrugging.

“I… Is it going to take long?” he questioned evenly. “If you want to just say it and leave… that’s okay. If not… I have some tea?” He gestured between the kitchen and the door.

He gave Geonhak the option to bow out as quickly as possible.

“If it was that simple, I would have just texted,” Geonhak pointed out softly, making something flicker in Seoho’s eyes that was firmly stamped down, like slamming a hand over a flashlight. 

“Okay, sure,” he said, rolling with it. “Want tea?”

Geonhak wasn’t sure his stomach would take it, but it would give them something to do, so he nodded, following Seoho into the kitchen.

At another point in time, he would have sat on the counter, waiting and kicking at Seoho each time he passed by, sometimes catching his waist with his feet to hold him in place while the other swatted at him, trying to dodge and knocking into the other counter-

Instead, he leaned against the counter, watching Seoho turn on the kettle.

He took a breath, not letting his growing anxiety psyche him out as he forced himself to start talking, willing to face whatever consequences came from it.

“If I was going to refuse… I would have just texted you.”

Seoho froze where he was reaching for the box of tea bags, glancing over his shoulder with an emotion Geonhak couldn’t name, his arm slowly lowering as he turned around, facing Geonhak fully.

“Okay,” he said, voice carefully reserved, waiting for Geonhak to finish.

He rolled his lips, arms crossed over his chest loosely.

Once again… the words seemed to be begging to be let out, rather than sticking and clawing their way back down his heart.

“I’m willing to try again,” Geonhak said, the words tasting… gritty on his tongue, but not bitter. “I’m going to be honest: I never really moved on from before, I never stopped missing and regretting it… and given everything, I think that the way it ended was more a misunderstanding than anything.”

There was gunk to clear out, there were things to fix, there were conversations to have…

But Seoho was still Seoho, and Geonhak was now unable to completely ignore the way his stomach twisted viciously with how much he missed the things he had watched, encapsulated in 30 seconds videos.

Hurt or not… he wanted those back.

He wanted the Seoho in front of him back- the one that he had those four years and more.

“You know you can, like… yell at me and shit, right?” Seoho said, the statement seeming rather abrupt, making Geonhak blink, but the other just stared firmly.

His expression was gentle enough, but Geonhak could see the tightness around his eyes there, holding onto disbelief and expectations.

“I… I fucked up,” he said firmly. “Regardless of your decision, you can… you can blame me for that stuff.” His hand twitched. “You don’t have to do this shared responsibility stuff. It wasn’t your fault.” 

Geonhak had already yelled at Seoho, during that first meeting. He had already analyzed the laying of blame intimately, piecing together exactly what was his fault and what wasn’t… and he came to the conclusion that… “blame” was the wrong word.

“So, I should blame for you being insecure?”

Seoho winced at the words, despite the quiet voice they were delivered in. “Yeah,” he said, huffing a humorless laugh. “Or even if not for being insecure, for being a fucking dick about it.”

“You-“ Geonhak stopped before the rebuttal could leave his lips, processing what exactly he was intending. “If our situations were flipped…”

Seoho scoffed, laughing as he shook his head sharply. “We aren’t playing that game-“

“What game?” Geonhak questioned, frowning. “Why are you held to different rules than I am?”

“Because I… Because it was my fault,” he stressed firmly. “Everything that happened was because of me. It’s not like you did anything wrong, I was just being fucking stupid-“

“You weren’t being stupid. You never called my insecurities stupid.”

Seoho opened his mouth, but whatever argument died on his tongue, expression falling as he glanced away.

“Are you going to fight me on trying again?” Geonhak questioned, smirking as he crossed his arms firmly.

Seoho sighed, not meeting his eyes. “If I’m honest, I never thought you’d actually agree,” he muttered. “But no, I won’t fight you on agreeing, but I will fight you on trying act like I didn’t fuck up.”

“I am the last person on this earth who is going to forget what you did,” Geonhak assured him with a chuckle, wincing at the thought of how sharp those words could be-

Seoho, however, just gave him a flat, exasperated look.

The combination of their expressions- flat and dully amused- made his chest ache.

“But I’m not going to blame you for being insecure, or for anything that came as a direct result of that,” Geonhak said firmly, shaking his head. “As far as everything else goes, I don’t really care what path you chose. You were trying to protect yourself- Yes, it fucking hurt, but that’s not why I’m here.”

Seoho’s throat bobbed as the kettle gave a gentle  _ click _ when it had finished boiling. Neither of them moved.

He wasn’t here for that.

He was here to… begin the process of mending what they’d lost.

“I’m not here to guilt trip you, or make it seem like I’m being the bigger person or doing you a favor by taking you back- or whatever the fuck you might think I’m doing here,” he said, expression twitching in confusion at whatever might be going through Seoho’s head.

This… wasn’t about owing each other. They had never operated like that.

That was, very specifically, what they had tried to never do, because Geonhak had always viewed relationships as just a constant scramble to stop owing each other, to balance the scales because if one person gave too much, it would all tumble over.

“I’m here because I want what we had back.”

Seoho broke, looking away as he grabbed the tea he had abandoned, pulling out two bags slowly, shoulders stiff.

“And I can’t have that back… if we turn this into nothing but us remembering what happened. It was a year- that’s a long time- but we had four years of counterarguments before that. Four years of proof that… there wasn’t anything wrong with us.”

Seoho’s hands paused, but he didn’t turn around.

If all it took… was Geonhak opening up a little and Seoho being honest if another fear took root…

“I don’t want us getting back together to turn into walking on eggshells,” he pushed, arms uncrossing and falling to shove into his pockets. “Yeah, I realize things are different, but they don’t have to be exacerbated by us bringing guilt as a focal point.”

Seoho chuckled, quiet and dull as he reached over to the kettle, face hidden. “’Exacerbated,’” he repeated lightly. “Big words.”

Geonhak was either going to hit him or kiss him. He was a little confused on which, given his likelihood to do either at any given moment.

His stomach twisted at the thought of kissing Seoho again- not unpleasant but wrapped in nostalgia

But Seoho sighed, taking out two mugs, still not turning around. “Okay,” he said quietly, tapping fingers against the glass. “So, we get back together,” he said, like planning out their activities for the day. “No guilt and moping and stuff.” He nodded slowly, contemplatively. “I’m assuming that this is going to come with stipulations, though?”

He threw a glance over his shoulder as he let the tea steep. His expression was carefully protected- open, but hiding anything that might give way to any specific emotion.

Geonhak had already thought of a million restrictions that he could realistically give, most of them fueled by leftover aches and the tugging fear of going through it all again.

They had all been thrown out, though.

“Not really,” Geonhak said quietly, shrugging as he felt a weight slowly melt from his shoulders, making it easier to breathe. “Just one.”

Seoho turned slowly, eyebrow raising slowly, jaw tightening without the knowledge of what was about to be asked.

Geonhak figured everything summed up to one thing.

“Just… talk to me,” he said, voice coming out weaker and softer than he thought it would, bordering on unsteady. He stared at Seoho’s expression that slowly bloomed into that familiar, glassy vulnerability. “When it matters… talk to me. And I promise- I swear, I will start talking to you more.”

Seoho shook his head sharply, eyes gentle. “I said I never want you to change-“

“It’s not changing,” Geonhak said firmly. “I’m never going to  _ force _ myself to say anything, but… Just, trust me when I say that it’s what I want to do.”

Geonhak used to regret never saying certain things. When he returned home alone, he could think of all the messages he’d never delivered. It wasn’t just that, though. 

There were a lot of things- old and new- that were motivations. Some of them were impossible to list or even acknowledge.

But… it  _ was _ what he wanted. He wanted to be able to ensure that Seoho never went through that doubt again.

He wanted to give Seoho a trust as strong as his- and if giving those things meant just putting in a little more effort…

Geonhak couldn’t change himself. But he could try and use those words like actions- nothing big and boisterous, but… little things. Memorable things, even if they were extravagant.

Sometimes, he’d mess up Seoho’s drink order while trying to bring it home. He hadn’t been perfect with his actions, either.

Maybe he could figure out how to be imperfect with words.

Seoho chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, clearly debating on something. “Okay,” he said quietly, nodding slowly.

Geonhak waited to see if there was more, but Seoho stopped there.

“Are there any stipulations for you?” He questioned carefully, keeping his tone light.

Seoho wet his lips, considering for a moment while his eyes never drifted from Geonhak’s. The gaze wasn’t uncomfortable, though.

If anything, it was painfully familiar.

“No,” Seoho said, voice slightly rough and gentle. He crossed his arms slowly. “Just…”

He rolled his lips and Geonhak waited.

There wasn’t fear in his eyes, but it almost seemed like a plea, a request.

“Don’t… change for me,” Seoho finally said, a little unsteady.

“I-“

“Forget everything I said,” Seoho said, a little firmer. “Forget those stupid insecurity- I know now how to fight them. I didn’t fall in love with a you who was more open or talkative.”

Geonhak’s lips sealed together, gut twisting.

Seoho started at him, not looking away this time. “You can do what you want,” he assured him quietly. “But don’t… change for me. That’s never what I wanted. If it was… it wouldn’t have been irrational fears that made me leave.” 

There was a difference between hearing that someone loved you in a moment… and hearing that they loved you for who you were.

Geonhak could have listed all the reasons why it wasn’t changing… but he simply nodded. “Okay,” he replied easily, a promise and a hope. He swallowed around the rock in his throat. “Anything else?” He rasped gently.

Seoho’s lips twitches despite the quietness of his eyes. “You don’t change, and I should talk it out instead of tearing away without a word and doing basically everything that I shouldn’t have. I can do that.”

Geonhak felt his lips twitch despite himself. “Yeah, if you could refrain from doing that again, I think it’ll be okay.”

He wasn’t sure if he felt like throwing up with relief or crying from the balloon slowly expanding in his chest.

Seoho laughed, breathy and heavy, but genuine as he rubbed a hand across his eyes. “You’re an asshole. But while we’re at it, how about you promise not to do that, either, hm?” He threw a pointed glance.

Geonhak lifted an innocent brow, that balloon growing achingly bigger. “My track record doesn’t need me to make that promise.”

Seoho scoffed, rolling his eyes in a way that always preceded an attack of some sort- either verbal or physical. Usually, physical.

The sight of it made another weight melt off his shoulders.

And he suddenly felt like… like setting down his weights after working out- a good burn throughout his muscles, despite the exhaustion that came with it.

Seoho pushed the mug at him, not quite meeting his eyes. “You’re an asshole,” he repeated firmly.

“You’re not going to kick my ass for it?” he questioned, slowly lifting the mug to his lips, staring at Seoho over it.

He could see the little meter over Seoho’s head grow a little fuller as he huffed, glaring at Geonhak at the teasing, clearly holding something back. “You’re holding a hot drink.”

“Never stopped you before,” he muttered into his tea.

Seoho narrowed his eyes, something loosening. “I’m not going to risk you breaking my cup.”

“Never stopped you before.”

Geonhak watched the exact moment the meter hit the top, leaping away as Seoho kicked at him, hoping on one foot to perform another attack that Geonhak danced away from, careful not to actually spill and burn or break anything as Seoho stopped, glaring with a poorly suppressed smile misshaping his lips.

Geonhak felt a genuine grin take over his lips as he held the cup out as defense.

There was a weight he hadn’t even realized was sitting at the bottom of his heart that suddenly disappeared at the threat in Seoho’s eyes that would never come to fruition.

Seoho took a pointed sip of his drink, though his eyes swore that it wasn’t over.

_ “Do you think… it’s a stupid thing to agree to?” Geonhak had asked Youngjo the afternoon he had a text to Seoho pulled up on his phone, asking to meet up and give his answer. _

_ “Getting back together?” the other questioned, equal parts gentle confusion and darker contemplating. _

_ Geonhak nodded, staring at the text, reading the one above it that was just a reminder from the previous day that Geonhak didn’t owe him anything and didn’t even have to give an answer. _

_ “I don’t think it’s stupid,” Youngjo finally said. “I think you’re both smart enough to understand what happened… and I think you’re both experienced enough to understand whether you have something that can be fixed or not.” _

_ Geonhak hummed absently, thoughtfully. _

_ “I think if it has a chance to be fixed… it’s worth it.” _

_ At that, Geonhak’s glassy eyes focused, looking at the other with a gentle frown. “Why do you think that?” _

_ Youngjo chuckled, like it was a dumb question. “Because I’ve known both of you for a long, long time, and neither of you were ever as happy as you were during those four years.” _

_ It cut deep. But there was no wound left behind. _

“Do you want to go for a walk?”

Seoho lifted a genuinely surprised eyebrow. “We just made tea.”

Geonhak snorted. “You can bring it, if you want, I won’t stop you,” he said sarcastically, making Seoho glare, the sight making him smile wider. “Do you want to go?”

“It’s snowing,” Seoho said, glancing out the window and watching a few flurries pass by.

Geonhak merely stared at him, expectant.

Seoho huffed, rolling his eyes. “What would we even do?” he sighed, though he set his cup down, walking to the entrance hall and grabbing his coat.

“Um. Talk?” he said, the answer obvious. “If you want a destination, we can make our way to the park. Or we can not talk, and just walk. Or we can take a bus, if you don’t want to get your nice little boots dirty-“

Geonhak dodged the sleeve that batted at him, snickering as Seoho zipped up his coat.

“Okay, fine,” he muttered, shoving hands in his pockets. “What are we even going to talk about?” he questioned in anticipation.

Geonhak did understand that there were quite a few conversation that probably needed to happen at some point, but this… this wasn’t the time for those.

Both of them (he could see it in the spark in Seoho’s eyes as he rolled them) were a little high on familiarity and… well, just a sense of  _ right _ .

A sense that Geonhak hadn’t had this past year.

“I mean, I haven’t heard from you in a year,” he said casually, grabbing his coat. “We’ve got plenty to catch up on.”

Seoho opened the door, huffing. “My year was boring.”

“So was mine,” Geonhak assured him, turning to face him expectantly. “So start talking.”

“Bossy,” he muttered, locking the door. “I thought you were usually nicer in the winter,” he demanded, glaring.

“If it makes you feel better, I probably won’t push you into the snow,” he swore solemnly.

“’ _ Probably’ _ .” 

They both laughed, a little lighter, a little more genuine.

The walk down to the outside was silent.

The walk down the street, to the corner, was quiet.

They paused there, snowflakes gathering in their hair as they glanced at their choices of paths. “Where to?” Seoho asked, hands in his pockets as he looked at Geonhak.

In all honesty, he didn’t really hear him.

The sensation of standing in the freezing air, Seoho next to him as if nothing had happened… It winded him. It slammed him into a year in the past, passed the parts where he thought this part of his life was over and back into the part where it was the norm.

It winded him even more violently when Seoho lifted a fist, knocking his knuckles against Geonhak’s jaw- barely a tap as he glared at him.

“If you keep standing there, I’m going back inside,” he threatened firmly. “Where are we going?”

Geonhak genuinely did try and consider which way they should go, but he must have taken a moment too long because Seoho sighed, rolling his eyes up towards the sky, blinking away snow flurries.

“Stop it,” he muttered quietly.

Geonhak blinked. “ _ What _ ?” he demanded, innocent. It was not a whine- never a whine- but a very pertinent demand. 

Seoho glanced at him with a lukewarm glare. “Stop looking at me like nothing changed.”

The words hit like a baseball to the stomach, more painful than winding, but enough to stun him silent and still.

Geonhak wasn’t aware he was doing anything.

“ _ Have _ things changed?” Geonhak asked instead, hands in his pockets and his body feeling lighter than it had in months.

Seoho looked over, startled.

Because he was standing here with Seoho, something fragile but sturdy hanging between them- like a piece of china that you’d dropped, but wouldn’t shatter- and it didn’t feel like things had changed at all.

Not really. Even in that year apart… nothing really changed, did it?

Seoho’s expression flickered, torn between threatening and softening, eventually ending on avoidance as he looked away. “I’m not kissing you on the first date,” he said firmly, making Geonhak laugh at the way it knocked the breath from his chest.

He bumped his shoulder on Seoho’s hard enough to make him stumble. “Who said I was asking for one?”

“Your  _ face _ ,” Seoho burst, eyes narrowed. “You’re practically asking for it.”

“I’m just looking at you how I always do,” Geonhak said, nose lifting into the air.

Of course… the implications of that statement made both of them pause.

He heard Seoho sigh, quiet and private.

The silence that fell wasn’t thick. It was anticipatory, holding the knowledge that both of them were holding back words.

Geonhak stared at the familiar huffing expression, expression falling lax and gentle.

His chest ached.

“I really did miss you,” Geonhak chose this moment to confess, the words leaving without him even realizing they were rising to his throat.

This time, the breath Seoho took was one for patience. He was bracing himself for something.

But the next breath made his shoulders fall, almost like a surrender- his expression softening and eyes focusing on a middle distance.

“I did, too,” he murmured, neither of them looking at each other. “That’s why I pushed you so far away.”

The words didn’t hurt.

The snow had already soaked most of them just by standing there.

Geonhak barely noticed the once annoying chill clinging to his skin from the soaked clothes.

He swallowed slowly, watching Seoho rock on his feet for something to do.

“You’re not far away now…”

He saw Seoho whip towards him, shock written across his face for a moment- colored with something pained and tight- but smoothed over with an acceptance of reality: he wasn’t far away anymore.

Seoho swallowed the darker parts of his expression, lips twitching as he slowly lifted a questioning eye brow.

“Do you want to kiss me now?” he asked, softer than before.

Geonhak glanced his way, hands warm in his pockets as he felt snow soaking his jeans, making the rest of him freezing. “Yeah,” he confessed quietly, bravely, feeling a years worth of tension breaking in his chest. “Do you want to kiss me?”

Seoho warred with himself for a moment- if you could call such a quick pause a war- before the tension finally left his face, making him seem years younger.

“Yeah,” he whispered, lips twitching upward, almost anticipating.

There was a distance between them still… but there was a bridge very rapidly appearing with every word exchanged.

Honestly, seeing that relief thrown across Seoho’s face…

That was almost better than the firework screaming in Geonhak’s stomach- fuse burning, but quite bursting yet.

Seoho stared at him, lips pressed together.

There was a split moment of them both falling in sync- both hesitating, then both reaching, both brushing.

And then both colliding- not like a stone crashing down, but like two balls of a Newton’s cradle, slamming together, a transfer of energy, and then pulling away- swinging into an equilibrium where they could push back together.

An energy not completely Geonhak’s pulsed through his chest.

The equilibrium broke as they swung back together, crashing and transferring-

They both stumbled, the ice making them unsteady as they swung back and forth, cracking together and breaking apart, as rhythmic and constant as a heartbeat.

Geonhak managed to steady them, an arm around Seoho’s waist to pin them together, grip tightening on Seoho to stop them both from tumbling- warm lips and cold fingers and heated skin and icy blood.

Sensations Geonhak hadn’t felt in a year, not even aware how painful their absence was until they washed over him like a tidal wave.

They stumbled again, Geonhak’s boot slipping on the icy snow, scrambling to right themselves without having to let go, finding their footing.

Seoho gripped him tighter, snickering against his lips as they practically ice skated in place on the compact snow stuck to their boots.

Seoho held him tightly, one hand on his hip and the other gripping his shoulder.

Another slip, and Seoho dropped his head to Geonhak’s shoulder, laughing into the cold fabric as he clung tighter, holding himself closer from self perseveration.

He was closer than he’d ever been.

Even days ago, Geonhak would have cursed the snow and its inconvenience. It’s pain and ice and mess and slipperiness and memory seared into it like a branding iron-

He would have cursed the snow for what it held in its memory.

But at this moment….

He wrapped arms around Seoho’s waist- not entirely necessary to steady them, bodies pressed together- not entirely necessarily for warmth, and lips still finding each other even through their half-embarrassed, half-breathless laughter filling the crack between them…

In this moment, with Geonhak holding Seoho like he’d never left, and Seoho clinging like he never wanted to leave again…

At this moment, he didn’t mind the snow. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so soft for relationships that are based in friendships!!! 
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed this- it was literally so amazing to write! Please let me know what you thought! 
> 
> My next work may take a while to get out because I’m not sure where I want to go with it, but I am planning another Seoho/Leedo fic in a sort of demon slayer!AU !!!! I’m super excited for it, but it may take a while to get out~ 
> 
> But I hope you enjoyed this work and I’ll see you in my next one!   
> You can find me on twitter @_SinisterSound_  
> -SS

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t wait to have the next chapter finished~   
> I don’t know when I’ll be able to have it up, but I promise I’m working on it!   
> Please let me know why you thought of this!   
> I had so much fun writing this- I hope you all enjoyed it!! 
> 
> Stay safe, lovelies!   
> -SS


End file.
